


Alexithymia (A Sherlock Soulmate AU)

by BurntMarshmellow221



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Jealous Sherlock, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, POV Sherlock Holmes, Possessive Sherlock, Romantic Soulmates, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock is a Brat, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 52,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntMarshmellow221/pseuds/BurntMarshmellow221
Summary: Alexithymia is the inability to describe or recognize your own emotions. A soulmate is a person ideally suited for another.In this world, a black mark appears where their soulmate will first touch them.One soulmate has alexithymia, the other just doesn't want to feel these emotions. How will this work? Especially when there are more pressing matters than their ability to feel for one another.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock x oc
Comments: 13
Kudos: 112





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome. I don't have much to say at the moment, just hope you enjoy!

THE GIRL with her hair in high pigtails shows her wide smile to the camera. Her eyes are unblinking until the flash occurs. Her smile immediately fades into a neutral expression; however, her neutral expression could be taken as one of anger.

"Next." The person behind the camera said in a monotone voice. She could tell he wasn't happy but she didn't have to see him to know. He was taking pictures for spoiled fourth graders, she was surprised that he hadn't yelled yet. Calling herself and her classmates spoiled was a normal occurrence. She knew far more than she let on.

"Mrs. Rogers." The girl stopped in front of the teacher. Mrs. Rogers looked up from her phone and down at the girl who wasn't much shorter than her.

"Yes Mallory?" She asked with the fake tone she put on for the students. No one really cared how she spoke.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Mallory wasted no time in brushing past the teacher and towards the bathroom door. She pushed on the swinging door with her forearm, not wanting to touch it. Who knew how many germs could be on that thing?

The fourth grader walked to the mirror and let out a sigh. It was blurry and crusted over in some spots. The janitors got paid less and less now-a-days. She reached up to the pigtails and pulled on the bands securing her hair. It came lose allowing the brown strands to fall down over her shoulders. She pushed the hair behind her ears and peered at her reflection. A small smile came to her face as she saw her hand in the reflection. A few small black dots sat on the back of her hand. It was her soulmate's touch.

When the girl first got the marks, her mother explained to her what it meant. She would say, "Well, Mallory. Everyone has a soulmate. Those little marks are where they will touch you first. You'll know who it is, trust me." Mallory had hope, but as she grew up to now, her hope was dwindling to nothing. Still, she was merely in fourth grade. Plus, she wouldn't want anyone from her class as a soulmate anyways.

\---

"Mallory." The emotionless, yet demanding, voice startled Mallory. She jumped in the seat she was in, the clipboard in her hands sliding off her lap along with the pen she held. "Stop daydreaming will you?" Her boss snapped, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Sorry Mycroft," She muttered, reaching down and grabbing the clipboard and pen. Her boss was, in fact, the infamous Mycroft Holmes. It was a blessing and a curse. At times he'd give her work beyond her comprehension, but at other's he'd be lenient. There was no in-between. Her job was simple enough, however, since she was merely his personal assistant. After high school, Mallory joined the FBI. Of course she went through rigorous amounts of training, but it was worth it when she was transferred to Mycroft's assistant. He quite enjoyed her skillset though it all came naturally. She was known as not having any emotions, but it was simple; she was good at hiding them.

"What's with you?" Mycroft turned on his heel, going back to pacing behind his desk. His tone was harsh, but there was compassion hidden inside.

"Just thinking. Go on." She quickly dismissed, looking down at her paper. "You said you wanted to...no, I wasn't listening, what did you want to do again?" Mallory tilted her head up to the man before her, noticing he was on his phone, typing away. She let out a sigh and clicked her pen shut. "Who are you texting now? You're on that phone so much I swear you have another assistant hidden away."

"Yes...wouldn't you like to know Miss Langston." He drones on, his attention on the device.

"Mallory." She corrects with a rather harshness.

"Miss Langston, I have a meeting in a few minutes." Mycroft looks up from the screen, his face expressionless. Mallory narrows her eyes at him.

"No you don't. I didn't plan anything for you." She notices the corner of his mouth twitch. He tries to keep his emotions in check, but it doesn't work. Over the years the two have grown close, close enough to know when one is planning something.

"I just planned it right now." He flashes a smile, turning on his heel and facing the window. His hands clasp behind his back as he stares out onto the street. Mallory continues to stare at his back. She wishes it was possible to read someone's mind.

"I should go then." She clips the pen to the clipboard and tucks it under her arm as she stands. Mallory reaches down and smoothes out the skirt she was wearing. Mycroft had a strict dress code. He only implemented it after he found out Mallory hated dressing up. It only fueled her fire to mess with him.

"Oh no, I'd like you to take notes." He doesn't look back at her as he speaks. She stands there for a moment longer before sitting down once again.

"What would you like me to take notes on?" Normally she wouldn't ask this, but with the way Mycroft is acting, she might as well.

"The person I'm meeting with." As he speaks, he tilts his head down, peering through the window. Mallory narrows her eyes as if trying to see through him. Mycroft turns suddenly and Mallory sits back in the chair acting as if everything was normal. He notices, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. "Oh no, don't sit. Stand there." He gestures to the door.

Mallory stares at him for a solid minute, his smirk hasn't faltered. "You want me," She stands and moves in front of the door. "To stand here, where I'll be hit." His smirk widens.

"No, don't be an idiot. To the side." He waves his hand and Mallory takes a step to the side. He looks her over before stepping across the room and stopping just in front of her. She blinks, her face emotionless, but on the inside she's beyond confused.

"Mycroft." She speaks when he reaches his hand out expectantly. "You have words, unfortunately, use them."

"Clipboard." He shakes his open hand as to emphasize it. Sighing, she places the object in his hand. He gives a small nod and steps back behind his desk. He places the clipboard on his desk and sits himself in the black leather chair. He clasps his hands in front of him.

Before Mallory can speak, the door flies open. Mycroft's smirk returns. Mallory's eyes widen as she jumps in fear for the second time that day. A man with light colored hair walks in, it's quite messy. He looks as if he left in a hurry. He wears a black coat with a checkered shirt underneath. It's buttoned up all the way and paired with a black tie. The man lets out a sigh as if he had run up the stairs, looking to Mycroft and then to Mallory. He furrows his brow showing his confusion as to why she is standing there.

Mallory shrugs as a response, about to step forward when another man walks in. She doesn't get to see his face as she's too focused on something else. In his rush inside, his fingertips brushed over her hand. She froze, her eyes wide, mouth hung open, and body tense. Many people have brushed past her before, even touched the same spot as her soulmate, but none have made her feel like this.

"Yes? What? Why are you smiling like an idiot?" The man that had brushed past her stands in front of Mycroft's desk. All Mallory can see is his long coat and fluffy hair. Her eyes slide past his to Mycroft who continues to smile 'like an idiot'.

"Yes Miss Langston you may be excused." Mycroft says with a slight tone of amusement. Mallory wastes no time in slipping out of the room. She continues walking until she reaches the bathroom. Mallory places her hands on the sides of one of the sinks, leaning forward and looking down into the white ceramic. Drops of water fall from the faucet down into the drain. That would need to be fixed.

"Mallory?" Mallory jumps for the third time today, looking over at the source of the voice. A woman in a black pencil skirt and white blouse stands at a sink a few away from Mallory. She was a coworker. "Are you alright dear? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah." Mallory quickly replies, straightening up and brushing her hair behind her ears. "Just needed a moment."

"Oh," The woman steps closer as if it was comforting. It wasn't. "If you ever need to talk-"

"No." Mallory quickly waves her off. "I must get back to Mycroft, he has a meeting." She wastes no time in leaving the bathroom.

Mallory enters Mycroft's office without knocking, all heads turning towards her.

"Miss Langston, I'd like you to meet Doctor John Watson," Mycroft gestures to the man with the light hair and coat. John gives a small smile and a wave. She manages to return a smile. Mallory stands by the door, tense as Mycroft gestures to the other man. "And my brother, Sherlock."

Sherlock doesn't wave, he doesn't even smile. Mallory looks to him with the same emotionless expression he wears. They both stare, no words exchanged. Suddenly, Sherlock stands, moving in front of Mallory, squinting at her. She blinks, looking at him as well. When nothing is said, she sighs and tilts her head past Sherlock's frame to see Mycroft. Without thinking, she reaches out and grabs his arm, her fingers on his elbow and thumb on the inside of his arm.

"Mycroft, what is this about?" She asks as if she hadn't just thought that her boss's brother was her soulmate. Mallory hears a sudden intake of breath causing her to look to Sherlock. His eyes are slightly widened and mouth pulled into a tight line. She looks down at her hand on his arm and releases her grip with a small apology. When Sherlock makes no moves, she slips past him and into Mycroft's view.

"John are you up for a walk?" Mycroft stands, straightening his coat and stepping around his desk. "Now Mallory, I'd thought you were smarter than that." He says as he passes her. "Close your mouth little brother, you'll catch flies." He mumbles as he slides past Sherlock and out the door. John, who is beyond confused, blindly follows. As the door closes Mallory opens her mouth to speak, but Sherlock turns and puts up his hand.

"No, don't speak. Just show me." He waves his hands and then lets them fall to his sides. Mallory stares at him just as she had stared at his brother earlier.

"Is this genetic?" She asks mostly herself. "As much as I'd like to, I can't read minds."

"Your mark." He clarifies, rolling his eyes.

"Why?" Mallory asks as if she didn't know. She didn't know why but she felt the need to play dumb. As she asked, she lifted up her hand showing off the back of her hand. The black dots visible to Sherlock. His eyes widen as he quickly begins to take off his coat. "Woah- slow down." She quickly puts her hands up in a defensive position as Sherlock takes off the dress coat.

He ignores her as he rolls up the white dress shirt he wore, revealing his black mark. It was true. He was her soulmate.


	2. Mycroft's Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Hope everyone is doing well and enjoying this story so far. I love reading comments so leave as many as you'd like :)

_Previously_

_He ignores her as he rolls up the white dress shirt he wore, revealing his black mark. It was true. He was her soulmate._

~

Mallory's eyes are glued to the black mark on Sherlock's arm. She had never been so focused on anything in her life. The image of his arm before her dissapeared as Sherlock rolled down the sleeve of his shirt. He turned on his heel and began pacing back and forth in front of her. His head tilted down and fingers on his chin.

"If Mycroft knew now...then he must have known all along." Sherlock mutters. Mallory assumed he was talking to himself and she would admit, she was disappointed.

She'd never personally witnessed soulmates meeting for the first time, but she did see it on TV. On TV, they would meet, dramatic music would play, and they would hug or kiss or sometimes even unspeakable acts. This was a similar situation, minus the dramatic music and physical contact.

"Stop." Sherlock said louder. She assumed it was addressed to her but he hadn't made any sign that it was. Mallory rose a brow in question. "You're thinking."

"Yes, I often do that." She retorts, leaning against Mycrofts desk and crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't suppose you read minds?"

"No, don't be stupid." He replies rather harshly. It was clear that Mycroft was his brother. They both carried the same attitude but showed it in different ways. "Did you show him your mark- no you couldn't have. You must have given him some clues."

"Sherlock." Mallory sighed, using this as an excuse to say his name. He seemed to pause for a split second, but tried to hide it. Mallory picked up on his hesitation. "I have no idea what you're going on about. This really isn't how-"

"You thought soulmates would meet?" Sherlock finished her sentence for her, glancing towards her with a mischievous look in his eyes. It annoyed her, and that emotion she couldn't hide. Sherlock stopped in his tracks but didn't look at Mallory. He rounded the desk and looked down at the papers, moving them around. Mallory turned, watching as Sherlock messed up Mycroft's papers. They weren't neat anyways.

"That's not really a good idea." She informs.

"Well, leaving me alone in his office wasn't a good idea." Sherlock mutters before pausing. He looks up at Mallory, a smile coming to his lips. It would've been a comforting smile if not for the mystery in his eyes. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was up to something. "Mallory, please. Stand over there."

"What?"

"Just go, stand there." Sherlock waved his hand to the general direction of the room. Mallory looked at Sherlock, then the area he pointed to, then Sherlock. She sighed, her arms falling to her sides as she trudged over to the spot. The overly excited man practically ran around the desk and up to Mallory. He took a few steps back and gestured for her to walk forward. Mallory hesitated, but she walked forward. Sherlock began doing the same until he passed her. He sidestepped, bumping into Mallory. Her hand immediately went to his arm, her fingers on his elbow and thumb on the inside of his arm. "Aha!"

"What?" Mallory let go, stepping back from him. Sherlock stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. She tensed up, unable to hide the fact that she was nervous.

"Mycroft found out your habits. He knew you reach out and grab someone- that means he knew about my mark. How did he find out such a thing?"

"Oh that was me." Mallory shrugs and Sherlock's hands fall back to his sides. He narrows his eyes, scanning over her.

"How?" He asked, almost demanded. Taken back by his tone, Mallory rolled her eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She said with a shrug. The man before her seemed to get annoyed, but it didn't escalate further. The door to the office opened revealing one older brother and one best friend.

"Well Sherlock it seems that I have other business to attend to." Mycroft muses as he strolls in. Mallory follows her boss's movements with her eyes. He stops just short of sitting down at his desk.

"How did you know?" Sherlock asked, still stuck on his question. "How did she find out?"

"Goodbye Sherlock." Mycroft responds, ignoring his questions. "Miss Langston, see him out."

"I'm-" John begins to speak, but Mallory holds up a hand to him. She wasn't quite sure how this whole soulmate business worked, but she was sure she would soon find out. Of course neither of them admitted it at this moment, but the pair of soulmates dreaded leaving. Sherlock had still been interested in how she had found out his mark and she was simply intrigued by him. However, neither party showed these emotions. They remained silent.

"Right this way." She brushed past Sherlock as she passed, walking towards the door. Mallory stopped short as a hand wrapped around her wrist. The hand loosened and let go once she turned to see who it had been.

"We can see ourselves out." He said with a completely different tone than before. It was softer and slower than his speech before. She noticed his change of emotion but thought nothing of it. "Come along John." 

With that, the two left. Mallory shut the door after them, standing with her back to Mycroft and her eyes on the door.

"How did you know?" She asked, not bothering to turn.

"How is he?" Mycroft asked, completely ignoring her question. Mallory turned to look at her boss. He was fixing the papers Sherlock had messed up. 

"I asked you a question." She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Observation. You did most of the work though. Now you." Mycroft's eyes slide from one paper to the next as he speaks. He doesn't bother looking up.

"I wouldn't know. He kept muttering nonsense, trying to figure out how you knew about his mark. I told him that was my doing." Mallory uncrossed her arms, relaxing now that it was only the two of them. She never did well with crowds, or new people who invaded her space. In fact, her whole life she had been so nervous about meeting her soulmate and now? Now she didn't know how she felt.

"And he asked you how?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell him, did you?" Mycroft looks up as he speaks. He folds his hands together and leans on the desk. Mallory shakes her head. "No wonder."

"No wonder what?" She hated how he did this. Mycroft would ask a question, she'd answer, then he'd say something as if he made a realization but never elaborates on it. Mallory could only assume Sherlock was the same from her short time with him. 

"Well he took your file." He says this casually, as if it wasn't important. A chill goes down Mallory's spine as realization sets in. "I figured he would since you are soulmates. No matter. I'll have someone go and fetch it tomorrow."

"Sorry- tomorrow? Why not now?" Mallory steps forward, her worry surfacing.

"What's the matter? There's nothing in that file that can't be searched." He shrugs and leans back in the chair. "Your secrets are safe Mallory. I'm not an idiot."

Mallory's worry subsided. Part of her was relieved that nothing in the file was too important, but at the same time it still worried her. She wasn't even sure what could be searched and what couldn't. She took a few steps back, reaching up and brushing her hair behind her ears.

"I'm taking the day off." She informs Mycroft. At this point she wasn't asking, she wouldn't take a 'no' for an answer.

"Fine." He waves his hand. Mallory turns and walks towards the door. She yanks her black coat from the coat rack, folding it on her arm. As she grabs the handle, Mycroft speaks up. "221B Baker Street."

"What?" She looks over her shoulder at her boss. That smug smile returned.

"That's the address where you can return that scarf in your pocket." He looks down unbothered. "Better go before he comes looking."

Mallory furrows her brow, looking down at the coat. She reaches towards the pocket and notices the button had been undone. She sticks her hand inside feeling a soft material. Upon pulling it out she can clearly see what it is. One blue scarf. Perfect.

"Did you-"

"Goodbye Miss Langston." Mycroft interrupts. "Close the door on your way out."

Mallory sighs, clutching the scarf in her hand tightly, holding it down at her side and leaving his office. She doesn't bother closing the door. 

She wastes not time in hailing a cab. When he asks where she is going she's tempted to say her own address. Before she can even think, the words have already came out of her mouth. "221B Baker Street."

Mallory still holds the scarf in her hand and her coat draped over the other. She waits impatiently, her leg bouncing up and down. As the cab pulls up to the sidewalk Mallory is already out the door.

"Hey! You got money?" The man yells out the door before she can close it. Mallory had almost forgotten. She puts on a fake smile and pokes her head in the door. 

"Charge it to Mycroft Holmes." She winks, stepping away and shutting the door. Mallory turns on her heel and looks up at the building. The curtain in one of the windows blows shut. Interesting.

Mallory quickly steps up the stairs and raises her hand to grab the door knocker, but stops short. Just behind the thin wood she can hear loud footsteps, better yet, someone running. Not soon after, the door opens. Sherlock's face is the first thing she sees. His eyes are dull and mouth in a frown.

"Here." She shoves the scarf towards him, hitting his chest in the process. Sherlock's hand reaches up on instinct to grab it, but before he can touch the scarf, she pulls it back. "Why did you take my file?"

The corner of his lips twitches up. "How did you find out about my mark?"

"Sherlock."

"Don't say my name." He quickly says.

"Why?" Mallory asks with a furrow of her brow.

Sherlock seems to grow uncomfortable for a moment. "Feelings."

It became evident that Sherlock was trying to avoid this whole soulmate situation. Mallory understood because she was about to do the same. More specifically, her plan had been to go home, sort out what happened, and then never speak about it again. 

"Fine." She didn't know what to call him anymore, but she hoped she wouldn't have to say anything further. This situation was odd indeed. Soulmates are supposed to want to be together, not have the urge to avoid one another. However, this avoidance technique seemed mutual. "My file?"

"Still reading." He talks as if it was a book he was borrowing. In some ways it was. It was a book of her life.

"I'm not going to play your game." Mallory rolls her eyes and holds out the scarf for him to grab. Sherlock takes it, his fingers brushing against the back of her hand, once again, in the same spot as before. Mallory immediately pulls her hand back, trying to play it off. He had already noticed.

"You're already playing." Sherlock comments. Mallory tries her best to ignore him as she turns and walks away. Conveniently her own home wasn't far from this. On her walk home, she can't help but allow her mind to wander.

It doesn't help that she had some strange urge to continue talking to Sherlock. Part of her wanted to turn around and run back. She wanted to see his living areas, know how he liked his tea, see his favorite books. It was an unachievable dream. Mallory brushed the thoughts away and pushed them into a corner of her mind she never touched for other reasons.

Upon entering her home, her phone beeped. The familiar tone made her sigh out of annoyance. Mycroft often texted, or called. Sometimes he complained about other assistants messing up paperwork or even some murderer who he had to watch be questioned. It never ended.

Mallory reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone before throwing the clothing to the side. It landed on a small sofa silently. When she opened the message she was surprised to see it wasn't Mycroft.

_How did you find out_

_SH_

She couldn't help it. A groan left her lips. Just as she was trying to forget her soulmate, he texted. It didn't take a genius to find out who it was.

_Don't text me_

Mallory clicked send only for a text to come in seconds after.

_Why_

_SH_

She rolled her eyes as she typed up his response to her earlier question.

_Feelings_

Mallory kicked off her shoes, stepping down. She allowed herself to relish in the feeling of relief. Mycroft's strict dress code involved heels, something she hated as well.

_How did you find out_

_SH_

She looked at the message for a few minutes, debating on whether she should explain to him exactly what she did, or take a nice bath.

_Wouldn't you like to know?_

A bath sounded nice.


	3. Not A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Welcome to the third chapter, hope you're enjoying this so far. This chapter is more of a filler to be honest. I'm slowly getting to the actual plot soon, trust me it'll get spicy.

_Previously_

She couldn't help it. A groan left her lips. Just as she was trying to forget her soulmate, he texted. It didn't take a genius to find out who it was.

_Don't text me_

~

The buzzing from the phone continued. It signaled a call coming through. A few moments went by before it ceased. Not a second later, the phone dinged. It signaled an incoming text.

Mallory groaned, her hands entangling in her hair as she pulled at the strands out of frustration. He liked playing these games didn't he?

"I apologise." Mycroft's dull tone sounded so much better to Mallory than the constant ringing. She looked over at him with a sideways glance from her desk.

At times, Mycroft liked to work with company. He had two offices, one with just his desk and a few chairs, and another with two desks. One was his and the other belonged to Mallory. It was a tight fit for the plain room but somehow it made it more personal.

"For what?" Mallory asked with a sad tone. She was annoyed beyond her limits. Her hands left her hair and instead moved to pat it down. It did no justice, but she could care less.

"For having the unfortunate connection with my idiotic brother." He muses, looking back down at his papers. The familiar ding of the phone went off once again. "You are familiar with the silence option, correct?"

"Yes Mycroft." Mallory grumbles, reaching for her phone just as it dinged again.

"Then why haven't you- oh. You want to text him back don't you?" Mycroft's smirk can almost be heard as he speaks.

"I came here to work, not for relationship advice." She mutters, clearing the missed calls out of her inbox. None came with voicemails. If it was truely urgent he would've left a voicemail. That led Mallory to believe he was toying with her.

"It's hardly relationship advice when there's no relationship to...advise." He retorts, flipping a page. Mallory can hear his pen scraping against the paper; it was out of ink. He clicked it a few times before letting out a sigh and setting it down. Before he could open his mouth, Mallory stood from her seat, grabbing a pen from her desk in the process. She held it out to Mycroft. He took it with a 'thank you.' The ding rang through the room once more. "Please do us both a favor and turn it off- or answer."

Mallory turned on her heel and sat herself down at the desk. She quickly grabbed her phone and went to her messages.

_Good morning_

_SH_

She scrolled to the next.

_FBI?_

_SH_

_How does FBI let someone go at the top of their class and be (unfortunately) transferred into Mycroft's care?_

_SH_

There was a gap of time before he had messaged again.

_File done. Meet me, cafe next to my flat._

_SH_

_Not a date_

_SH_

Mallory clicked the phone off and set it face down on the table. A pain began to form around her temples. She pressed her fingers against her skin as if trying to ease it. Did Sherlock not understand she has work?

"Are you going?" Mycroft asked after a moment of silence.

"He texted you didn't he?" Mallory mumbles, her hands moving to cover her face.

"You would be correct. Asked for you to have time off in exchange for his insight on my current project."

"I suppose I have no choice?" She asks, her hands falling from her face as she looked to her boss. He feigned a thoughtful look before shaking his head.

"Consider it an early birthday present." He gives a smile as if that would make it all better. Mallory stood from her desk, grabbing her phone and coat. She stacked her papers up before sliding them into a manila folder. That folder was placed in a drawer on the side of her desk.

"My birthday isn't until December Mycroft." She informs. It was merely January.

"Then late." He corrects. "Sherlock knows to return you here at a set time."

"Return me? I'm not an object." Mallory turns to face Mycroft. He seems taken back by her statement.

"You know that isn't what I meant." He shakes his head.

"I know." Mallory cracks a smile. "Only teasing. Goodbye Mycroft."

She wastes no time in leaving. She did, however, take her time in getting to the cafe. It was early in the morning and the rare moments of sun felt nice. She walked with her coat draped over her arms. Not many people were out leaving her almost alone. It was fine, she liked to be alone.

By the time she arrived at the cafe, the warm air had turned colder. Mallory was glad she made it just in time. As she stepped inside she spotted Sherlock in the corner booth. He had a cup in front of him and an empty plate with crumbs littering the surface. A manila folder sat on the wooden table, his hand upon it.

Mallory stepped up and slid into the booth.

"You're late." Sherlock commented, picking up the tea cup. He took a sip before setting it down. Mallory noticed his eyes as they washed over her. Was he trying to analyze her?

"You didn't set a time." She shrugs, her eyes connecting with Sherlock. He had stopped looking around and focused on her. Mallory couldn't tell, but it seemed like he was disappointed.

"Tea?" He asked.

"No thank you." She couldn't help but notice his eyes would flick away from hers to look at her appearance. Mallory shifted in the seat, purposely bouncing her leg under the table and fidgeting with her fingers.

"You're nervous." He immediately says.

"I'm not." She stops her actions immediately. "You were trying to read me weren't you?"

Sherlock looks as if he's just been caught cheating. "Did Mycroft-"

"No," She interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. "He didn't tell me your profession or what you do. I just assumed. Mycroft tried to 'impress' me the first day we met, and everyday after he'd point out the smallest details. I assumed you were the same."

"Well, then yes." Sherlock admits, grabbing his cup of tea and taking another sip.

"What did you find out?" Mallory asks out of curiosity. She knew it wouldn't be anything specific, she hid all her secrets carefully.

"You hate those clothes." Sherlock began. His eyes flicked over her face and down her body as he did. "You only wear them because of Mycroft's dress code. They were bought cheap but you redid them, the hem is up higher than it should be on your skirt. Your coat is a hand-me-down. It has a worn out label from one too many washes- but you refuse to take it to the dry cleaners because they're expensive.

You hair is messed up, most likely from stress, but you don't seem to care. You don't care how I see you, whether you're dressed up or not, if you did you would've fixed your hair and changed clothes. You took a long time to get here probably because you wanted to emphasize the fact that you 'don't care'. But in reality you do care. You care about me and that's why you came. You would've came whether I had the file or not. And one more thing, you're not telling me how you knew about my mark just to keep me wondering because it is fun to you- am I right?"

Mallory listened through Sherlock's speech, taking in every word, every sentence, every breath he took. In fact, he only took about two during the whole thing. Now he is staring at her, asking for validation.

"Mostly." Mallory shrugs. "I'm pretty sure you do this kind of thing for validation. Analyzing people and trying to see their stories. I'm sure people are impressed when you do it.

So let me take a crack at this hm? You're bored. You found out we were soulmates and it became a game to try and find out my story. You couldn't figure it out by observation so you had to take my file to read up, but it didn't do justice. You scarf in my coat- that was so you could try and read me again. It didn't work did it? And this time, you asked to meet me because you wanted to read me after knowing my habits. If you truely read my file you'd know that I am good at hiding."

Sherlock didn't skip a beat as he replied. "You intrigue me."

"You absolutely annoy me." Mallory says back with a fake smile. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at that.

"Great!" He slams his hands on the table as he stands, slipping out of the booth. He grabs the large coat and shrugs it on. Mallory takes the hint and stands as well, putting her own coat on.

"Where are we going?" She asks as Sherlock begins walking away. He didn't pay, she could only assume he has already done so.

"I'm working a case." He pushes the door open and walks out quickly. Mallory, somehow, keeps up with his fast pace. He hails down a taxi and the two get in. Sherlock says some address she doesn't know and off they go. Mallory glances at him out of the corner of her eye, noticing his fingers tapping away on the keypad of his phone.

"You text too much." Mallory comments looking out the window. In the reflection she can see him pause for a second.

"You don't mind it." He retorts.

"Still annoying." She mutters back.

It took a while to get there and silence engulfed the cab. Neither of them seemed to mind as they were both busy; Sherlock with his texting and Mallory with her thoughts. It wasn't obvious the two were soulmates. Normally soulmates would speak to each other or even touch. Neither did anything.

As the cab stopped, Sherlock paid and the two got out. Mallory looked up at the building before her. She didn't have time to register it as Sherlock whisked past her. Not wanting to spend her time lost, she followed.

He seemed to know where he was going. If she could see into his head she'd probably see a picture of the location. However, not a moment later he made a sharp right and through a door. Mallory hesitated before catching the door and slipping inside.

"Sherlock, how are you?" Mallory looked up at the female voice. She sounded cheery, almost happy that Sherlock was here.

"Small talk doesn't suit you." Sherlock said without a second thought. The woman's smile didn't falter. The detective threw his coat off and draped it over a chair. He reached up, fluffing his hair- which Mallory found very unnecessary- before he began preparing slides for the microscope.

"Hi." Mallory spoke up, raising her hand and giving a small wave to the other woman in the room. The woman in the lab coat turned to her, surprised that she hadn't noticed her.

"Oh! Hi! What brings you here?" She asked with a wide smile. It didn't seem fake. Mallory could tell she genuinely liked talking to people. She must not get a lot of human interaction.

"She's with me." Sherlock spoke up without looking away from the microscope. He slid the piece of glass under the machine and pushed his eye against the eyepiece.

"Oh- I'm Molly." The woman stepped forward, her hand extended. Mallory cracked a small smile and shook her hand.

"Mallory." She introduced, letting her hand fall to her side.

"How do you know each other?" Molly asked. She clasped her hands together in front of her, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Oh," Mallory begins, glancing to Sherlock. He looked up, and in the short look she gave him she got his unspoken message. "I work for Mycroft, he told me to babysit."

"Oh that's nice!" Molly smiled, looking between the two. "Well I'll leave you to your research- I'm going to get a snack, did you want anything?"

"No thank you, I just ate." Mallory gave Molly a soft smile. She noticed how Molly didn't wait for Sherlock to answer before she left. This must have occurred often. Mallory stepped over to the table Sherlock was working on. She stood in front of the microscope.

"She doesn't need to know." Sherlock says.

"Because she likes you?" Mallory asks with a tilt of her head. Sherlock pauses, looking up at Mallory with a confused look.

"She doesn't like me?" He said this as if he was asking. Mallory snorted, shaking her head.

"What's this case you're working on?" Mallory asked, gesturing to the equipment he was using. Sherlock's eyes seemed to brighten at her question.

"A young girl was taken from her home a few nights ago. She was returned in perfect condition and showed no signs of abuse or harm. She isn't speaking, but her shoes had mud on it. I'm trying to find where it came from." He explained. Mallory smiled and nodded as he spoke. He seemed so into it. No wonder he did what he did.

"I don't suppose I'm here to help?" Mallory asks with a raise of her brow.

"No." He replies blatantly. "Molly is in the hallway, keep her company." Mallory stays where she was a few moments longer before doing as he said. She steps out the door to find Molly, her back against the wall and hand in a bag of snacks.

"Hi." Mallory greets, walking over and standing next to her. Molly straightens up.

"Oh hi! Is everything alright in there?"

"Yeah." Mallory gave her a reassuring smile to try and calm the girl's nerves. "Why are you...out here?"

"Oh Sherlock just doesn't like it when I bother him." Molly gives a sheepish smile. Mallory tilted her head in question. "I just think it's better to stay out of his way."

There was something about this girl that made Mallory wonder. Molly stood with one arm around herself and the other holding the bag of snacks. She wore a genuine smile, but every few seconds it would falter. Molly wanted to tell her something, but it was obvious she couldn't.

There was hurt behind that smile.

"You like Sherlock don't you?" As soon as the words left Mallory's lips, Molly's eyes widened. She quickly put her hands up in a defensive position in front of her and shook her head.

"No- well yes- but only as a friend. He's nice and-"

"Molly, it's okay." Mallory placed her hand on the girl's shoulder. Molly relaxed, her arms falling back to her sides. "Sorry for being so blunt, spending time with Mycroft will do that to you, but it's okay. I can tell he's hurt you and I just wanted you to know he's an oblivious idiot."

Molly seemed a bit shocked at her words.

"Sherlock is- well he's Sherlock." Mallory continued. "He is genuinely oblivious and stuck in his own little world. Especially during cases he gets like that- from what Mycroft told me. I don't want you to feel bad about it, if you ever need to talk I'm always open."

Molly took a second before she smiled once again. "Thank you.."

"Let's go." Sherlock's voice interrupted the moment between the two. Molly jumped as she saw Sherlock emerge from the lab still fixing his coat. He walked past the two without a second glance.

"Here," Mallory said as she reached into her coat and grabbed a small card. "You can text me whenever."

Molly took the card with a smile and nodded. Mallory gave a quick goodbye and turned on her heel about to catch up to Sherlock when she realized he had stopped. He stood a respectable distance away, not close enough to hear their conversation, but not far enough for Mallory to lose sight of him. She quickly shook off the feeling she got and caught up to the man. He began walking once she reached his side.

"What did she say?" He asked as they exited the building.

"Nothing that concerns you." Mallory replied as they stood on the sidewalk. He made no move to hail a cab but instead turned to her.

"You've been a good help." He began.

"I've done nothing." Mallory informs him.

"Exactly." Sherlock smiles widely as Mallory shakes her head in disappointment. "Will you come with me on this case?" He holds out his hand, but it doesn't seem like he expects a positive response.

"Why? Is John out of town?" Mallory asks with a raise of her brow. Sherlock's smile changes into a smirk. Mallory sighs, reaching up and placing her hand on top of his. His fingers press against the inside of her wrist as she does so.

What Sherlock expected was to feel her heart beating rapidly. What he felt was nothing but a steady beat. Mallory continued to pull him in whether she wanted to or not. She wouldn't admit it, but part of her wished this was actually a date.


	4. Play Your Role

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter involves a death, just a bit of a warning.

_Previously_

Mallory continued to pull him in whether she wanted to or not. She wouldn't admit it, but part of her wished this was actually a date.

~

Sherlock hadn't let go of her hand. They had entered the cab and he didn't let go. Mallory hadn't made any move to let go either. It didn't stop them from doing anything, Sherlock still texted and Mallory still stared out the window.

Neither of them could figure out their feelings simply because they didn't know what they were. Sherlock had planned out what it would be like to meet his soulmate and nothing had been according to his plan. Mallory certainly didn't expect this.

Sherlock had expected someone easy to read, someone who would be interested in what he did and express their feelings frequently.

Mallory had expected someone who was nice, but not too nice. She expected to have issues with him questioning whether she truely loved him.

Their expectations were not fully met.

They arrived at a barn. Mallory stepped out, her hand leaving Sherock's for the first time. Her palm felt empty and cold.

The barn stood tall, painted red and white just like in children's drawings. The only difference was the state of this barn. It looked stable yet, at the same time, it looked as if it was moments from collapsing.

Sherlock came to stand next to Mallory. His hand at his side brushed against hers, but he made no move to grab it. She wasn't disappointed.

"We-"

"Wait." Mallory quickly said, realization coming to her. How could she be so careless? "My file is still-"

"No." Sherlock interrupted. "I'm actually surprised it took you this long to notice that you never grabbed it. Were you, perhaps, distracted?"

Mallory stared at him with a blank stare. His lips turned up into a smile.

"The answer is yes, you were." Sherlock looked away from Mallory and forward at the barn. "It's safe. The owner owes me a favor, he's holding it for me. By now Mycroft's men have picked it up."

His words calmed Mallory. She couldn't help but think back to when she met up with him. What else had she been missing when she was with him?

"As I was saying," Sherlock continued. "He should be in here."

"He?" Mallory questioned. She was out of it. Her thoughts ranged from 'what am I doing here?' to 'why am I so dumb?' and on. One mere mistake and she was already falling over the edge. This wouldn't be a problem, but she rarely messes up. Mycroft better not hear about this one.

"The kidnapper." Sherlock stated before walking forward. Mallory furrowed her brow, watching as the detective began poking at the wood, trying to find a way inside. She looked down at her clothes. This was not the occasion for heels.

Mallory shook her head and walked forward trying her best not to stumble with the rocks under her shoes. At times like this, her hatred for Mycroft increased. She made it to Sherlock's side. He glanced towards her, giving her a quick once-over before turning his attention back to the large door.

"What." Mallory crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow at him.

"I didn't say anything." He mutters, grabbing the edge of the white painted wood. He pulled at it causing a large crack to appear.

"You want to." Mallory steps back as she notices another crack. At this point he would end up breaking the door.

"You're mad at me." He breathes out, letting go of the wood. "If you were hiding in an abandoned barn why would you go through the front?" Sherlock turned on his heel and walked away.

Mallory waited until he walked around the corner just to be sure he wouldn't turn around and walk back. She quickly followed, but as she rounded the corner she didn't see her soulmate. Confused, she opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Sherlock poked his head out of an opening she failed to notice. He pressed his pointer finger against his lips and winked before disappearing again.

Mallory rolled her eyes, walking forward and peering through the hole. It was just big enough for someone to fit through, about five feet and six inches. She didn't have to duck to step inside, but she had to be careful of the pieces of wood sticking out. She walked into the large clearing, Sherlock stood in the middle, looking up with awe. The barn was full of everything a barn should be filled with. Hay littered the floor as well as some cotton here and there. There were hay bales piled in the corners, cloth covering them. It was just a normal barn.

"I'm not mad." Mallory speaks low but her voice still echoes. Sherlock looks back at her before walking forward. Mallory follows.

"That's what someone who is mad says." He stops suddenly, turning to face Mallory. She stops just behind Sherlock. Mallory takes a step back when he turns. "He's not here."

"Okay, I'm mad-"

"Yes, that's what I said." Sherlock interrupts, looking down at her, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"You didn't let me finish." She informs. "I'm mad, but not at you."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock asks with a slight tilt of his head. Mallory gives a small shrug and that's all Sherlock needs to know the answer. "Yes, he is annoying."

Mallory snorts, her hand coming up to cover her mouth and nose. Sherlock's expression turned into a confused one. "He says the same about you."

"Typical." Sherlock mutters, glancing around. "Where would you sleep? Hay- no too prickly."

"Cotton." Mallory quickly said. She crouched down and grabbed the white fluff from the floor. She straightened up and handed it to Sherlock. He pressed his fingers together, feeling the material.

"Cotton." He repeated, dropping the material. Sherlock brushed past Mallory and stopped in front of a wooden ladder, looking up it. She hadn't even seen the second level, just another thing she didn't notice when with him. Sherlock looked over at Mallory. "Don't come up, wait here." He wasted no time in grabbing the rungs of the ladder and climbing up. Mallory did as he said mostly because she would rather run in these shoes than climb a ladder with them. Plus- and she would never admit it- she was terrified of heights.

Mallory could hear Sherlock talking to himself up there. From what she heard he found the man's living area. She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes on the second floor; however, behind her a man had begun to creep up. If Mallory hadn't been so focused on listening to Sherlock she would've heard the crunch of hay behind her, but it was already too late.

The man's arm wrapped around Mallory's chest and pulled her tightly against his body. She gasped at the sudden movement. Not a second passed before she felt a cool metal against her forehead. Mallory felt him shaking. If anything, she should be the one that was shaking out of fear. She relaxed, not bothering to struggle against him.

"Get down from there." The man yelled, his voice just as shakey as him. Mallory sighed, looking up at the second floor, Sherlock stood at the railing, looking down. She couldn't see his face from here, but he didn't seem too worried.

Mallory wasn't worried. This guy was unstable holding a gun to her head, but she knew he wouldn't shoot. He didn't kill the little girl and, from what Sherlock told her, he didn't harm her. People like that make mistakes, big mistakes. He wasn't in his right mind, but she knew, for sure, he wouldn't shoot.

Sherlock climbed down the ladder and began walking forward. The man quickly turned the gun to point at Sherlock instead, his arm tightening around Mallory. Sherlock stopped in his tracks, putting his hands up to show he was no threat.

"Please." Sherlock spoke in a shakey voice. Ultimately, he sounded pathetic. Mallory narrowed her eyes at her soulmate. His body language conveyed a completely different emotion than what he put on. "Don't hurt her. I don't know what I'd do without her."

As much as his words felt good to hear, she knew it was all an act. This guy wanted a reaction and that's exactly what Sherlock was giving. Mallory decided to play along. She began to struggle against the man, reaching up and pulling at his arm.

He quickly moved the gun back to her head. She ceased her struggling, sniffling as she feigned a cry.

"I'm sorry." Mallory choked out. She felt a wetness on her face that even surprised her. "We won't tell anyone."

"What do you have?" He quickly demanded with a forceful tug on Mallory. The man didn't notice, but Sherlock picked up on the annoyance behind her tears. Sherlock quickly reached into his pockets, digging around inside before pulling out a wad of paper. Along with the paper came a few coins. They fell to the floor with a loud clink causing the man to look in their direction. He moved the gun towards Sherlock and pulled the trigger.

Sherlock quickly stepped out of the way as the bullet collided with the floor beside his foot. Mallory took this opportunity to get an arm free. She thrust her elbow back, colliding with his chin. The man stumbled back, the gun falling from his hands. Mallory looked to the gun, watching as Sherlock picked it up. He pressed a button, the clip falling to the floor. The man groaned from the ground as Sherlock casually walked up. Just as the man started to sit, Sherlock slammed the gun against his forehead. The man fell limp, unconscious.

Sherlock dropped the gun, turning to Mallory. She brushed herself off, looking down. His worried expression had turned back to his blank face.

"Are you okay?" He asked with a hint of concern. Mallory brushed off the concern for an immediate response. In situations like this it's mandatory one asks the other if they're okay.

"Yes." She looked up at Sherlock. He stepped forward and brought a hand up, pausing a moment before he brushed the side of his finger against her cheek. Their eyes were on each other, searching for any sign that they were uncomfortable. What they both saw was the opposite.

Mallory broke their staring contest first. She cleared her throat, reaching up and brushing the tears from the other side of her face. Sherlock's hands went back to his sides as an uncomfortable silence overcame them.

"I called George already." Sherlock said, first to break the silence.

"George?"

"Lestrade." Sherlock corrected.

"Don't you mean Greg?" Mallory asked with a tilt of her head. She'd never met the man, but Mycroft often spoke of how Lestrade's whole department complained about Sherlock. He never did say what his department was, however.

"No." Sherlock narrows his eyes as if questioning her. Mallory shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Do we have to wait here?" Mallory asks with a raise of her brow. She knew the answer to that would most likely be a 'yes', but Sherlock shook his head.

"No. I called a car for you." Sherlock informed. Who didn't he call? On cue, a man in a suit and tie stepped into Mallory's line of sight. She looked past Sherlock to the man, who she recognized. He worked for Mycroft, often driving or running errands. Mallory accompanied him at times, but she never knew his name. It was something of an extra security in case he got caught somewhere he shouldn't be.

"Wait outside for me, please." Mallory spoke loud enough for the man to hear. He nodded before turning and leaving. Sherlock's eyes hadn't left Mallory when she looked away simply because he was thinking. She looked back at him as the man left. "Well..." Mallory trailed off, his name on her lips but she stopped herself.

Sherlock tilted his head up as if he was about to nod. She got the hint. "Goodbye Sherlock." She said before stepping past him and towards the makeshift door.

Mallory slipped into the car with the man and they drove off. As they were leaving, she spotted Lestrade in a car passing them. Mallory leaned back in the seat, relaxing.

"I have a question." She spoke up, looking to the man beside her. His eyes didn't leave the road, but he nodded. "You know John Watson correct?"

"Yes, I was just sent to see him before this." He informed. Mallory furrowed her brow.

"He's here?"

"Yes, in his flat. It's his day off today."

"Interesting." Mallory muttered, turning her attention out the window. She was silent for the rest of the ride.

\--

It was late, way too late for Mallory to be in the office, but here she was. Mycroft had given her all the files that had been done incorrectly and it was her job to fix it. She had gotten halfway through when a knock came to her door. Mallory sighed, clicking her pen and pushing her chair out to stand. The door opened before she could get up, Mycroft standing at the entrance.

"That man you went to go and catch." He began. She crossed her arms over her chest raising a brow. There were never any 'good afternoon' or 'what are you doing here so late' it was always just straight to the point. "He wants you."

"Sorry, why is he here exactly?" Mallory asked, now standing from the chair. "Didn't Lestrade take him in?"

"Yes, and he was transferred here after he started talking nonsense. Now he won't speak until he sees you." Mycroft steps aside and gestures out the door. She sighs before walking out, Mycroft at her side. There was no choice in the matter.

The two walked to the elevator, waited, then went down a flight of stairs towards an interrogation room. It was modeled just like the ones at the police station, double sided glass and all. Mycroft went into the room where he couldn't be seen and Mallory was let in the room with the man in question. He smiled when he saw her.

She stepped over to the table but didn't sit, instead she stood behind the chair, her hands resting on top of it.

"Are they listening?" He asked in a quiet tone.

"No." Mallory lied. He believed her.

"I have a message for you. He said I had to get your attention and everything would be alright." He began, his eyes flicking from her face to the walls around them. "He likes you."

"He?" Mallory asks with a raise of her brow. She had a feeling she knew who it was.

"Moriarty."

Mallory straightens up. Just as she suspected. "Well I-"

Before Mallory could finish her sentence, the man made a quick motion. He brought, what looked like a pen, and shoved it straight into his neck. Mallory's eyes widened as she stepped back. Everything moved in slow motion as Mycroft's men ran in, trying to save the man. Mycroft, instead, grabbed Mallory and pulled her from the room. He ushered her into the hallway and stopped.

"Go home. Don't mention this to Sherlock." Mycroft said. He wasn't one for compassion. Mallory gave a small nod.

"Does he know about me and Sherlock? Is that why?" Mallory asked, her voice quiet.

"I highly doubt that. You two aren't very obvious." Mycroft informs. "Go home now, rest. If Sherlock texts you, don't answer."

Mallory nodded again, turning on her heel and walking to her office to collect her things. It wasn't the first time someone killed themself in front of her and it wouldn't be the last. She knew she was good at her job but she never suspected he would be interested in her. The only way he would be is if he knew about her ties to Sherlock.

But no one could possibly know that.


	5. You’re a Doctor Sherlock

_Previously_

It wasn't the first time someone killed themself in front of her and it wouldn't be the last. She knew she was good at her job but she never suspected he would be interested in her. The only way he would be is if he knew about her ties to Sherlock. 

But no one could possibly know that.

~

"I didn't do it!" The man in a grey jumpsuit and cuffs exclaimed. He had repeated the same phrase multiple times as if it would become truer the more he said it.

"He did do it." Mycroft mused beside Mallory, his hands clasped behind his back. The two stood behind the double sided glass, looking in on an interrogation. It wasn't going very well.

"Yes, it's quite obvious." Mallory replies, looking down at her clipboard and scribbling a few notes. She had been with Mycroft all day yesterday, and all day the day before. This was how he showed he cared. After the brutal murder he didn't want Mallory to be alone, so he kept her at his side. It had only been three days, but Mallory felt fine. She didn't think twice about the man or Moriarty. To think of it, she hadn't even contacted Sherlock.

Mycroft leaned closer to the glass. "He's going to confess." 

"I think he's going to repeat his phase one more time before he does." Mallory challenges, looking up at Mycroft. He has the hint of a smile, but hides it behind his blank stare.

"I don't gamble Mallory." Mycroft straightened up, tilting his chin up as if he was above such a thing. In reality, Mycroft was one big child who enjoyed much more than he let on.

"Shame." Mallory sighed, clicking her pen shut. "He is going to confess."

"Okay- okay. I did it." The man's voice came loud and clear. Mycroft's lips turned down into a frown. Mallory smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"How many more of these do we have today?" She asks, reaching into her pocket for her phone. Just as her fingers brush against the metal, it rings. Mallory furrows her brow, pulling the phone out and looking to the caller ID. 

"Sherlock?" Mycroft asked with a raise of his brow, reading the name on the screen.

"Yes, that is his name." Mallory clicks the green button before pressing the phone to her ear.

"I thought you would've used a pet name-"

"Hello?" Mallory said, ignoring Mycroft the best she could. 

"-oh wait, you only use those in relationships." Mycroft continued. Mallory shook her head as she turned around, her back to Mycroft. It didn't give her privacy but it gave her enough.

"Mallory." Sherlock's voice came through the phone with a grainy sound. "I need you."

Mallory visibly tensed as she heard those words. No one had ever said that to her, let alone her soulmate. His words had meaning behind them unlike any other. If Mycroft were to tell Mallory that he needed her, she'd roll her eyes and ask him what he needed; however, Sherlock was different.

"Hello?" Sherlock spoke again, bringing Mallory from her thoughts.

"Yeah- yes, I'm here." Mallory spoke rather quickly. She glanced over her shoulder at Mycroft. He seemed to be minding his business, but in reality he was silently observing her. She turned her attention back to the wall in front of her. 

"Did you hear me or have you gone deaf?" His voice comes through rather harsh. He must be in a hurry.

"I'm working." Mallory looks down at her clipboard. She still had to file this paperwork after they would finish. Just thinking about it made her mood drop. Mycroft had her on paper work at the moment because of the recent death. Normally she'd be out collecting information. 

"You can work here." Sherlock states. Shuffling is heard before a thump. Mallory furrows her brow.

"I'm working." Mallory repeats, turning around and facing Mycroft. He doesn't bother to hide the fact that he was listening in. She rolls her eyes only causing Mycroft to smirk.

Sherlock sighs rather dramatically. "Fine." Mallory's lips part as she is about to wish him farewell when he hangs up. She slowly pulls the phone from her ear, looking down at the, now, blank screen.

"He hung up on me."

"You care?" Mycroft asks, raising a brow. Mallory slips her phone into her pocket and turns her attention back to the clipboard. She looks up at glass, noticing the man was already signing a confession.

A moment of silence passes before Mallory speaks up, her eyes still on the man. "As much as I love being here, I'd rather be out there doing something." Mycroft hums in response, clearly not listening. "Mycroft."

"Yes, I heard you." He speaks in his usual monotone voice. 

"And?"

"And you're better off here." He glances towards her out of the corner of his eye. They both stare at the man. He isn't interesting in the slightest.

"An hour." Mallory breaks her gaze from the man and turns to Mycroft. "I'll only be gone an hour."

He sighs, his attention turning to her. "And what will you do in that hour? Visit my brother?"

"No- you said you needed information on Doctor Hanson." Mallory puts on her best smile. Mycroft narrows his eyes.

"Did you go through my notes again?"

"I sort them...sometimes paper just slips out." Mallory shrugs. "One hour, I'll get you everything you need to know."

Mycroft looked at Mallory for a solid minute. He did care about her well-being even if he didn't say it. On the surface she looked completely fine, but he had a feeling she was hiding something. 

"Fine." He mutters after a moment. Mallory smiles and nods. She leaves the room before he can change his mind. He often did that.

She entered her office with a wide smile. It was genuine this time, which was rare. Mallory placed the clipboard on her desk and opened the top drawer. Inside was a small, but plump, bag. It contained makeup from natural to special effects. At the moment, she opted for natural.

Doctor Hanson was a simple man. He earned his degree at a ripe age of thirty and started his practice around thirty-three. He likes going outside, cheating on his wife, and overdosing patients. Simple. 

Mallory peered at herself in the small hand mirror. It had traces of makeup on the sides leaving a grime. She knew how to apply the products, but she didn't use them often, mostly because she didn't care. 

After finishing her final touches, she left. It didn't take long to arrive at the doctor's office. Once she saw his file on Mycroft's desk, she made an appointment, claiming to have immense amounts of stomach pain. Mallory didn't go for anything superficial since that wouldn't be worth the visit.

The receptionist lead Mallory into a back room where she waited. It had been twenty minutes before the door opened. Mallory clasped her hands together, resting them on her lap as she put on a smile.

"Hi." The man in the white coat spoke in an odd tone. His head was ducked down and back facing Mallory as he fiddled with the door. She furrowed her brow, her smile fading as she saw the top of his head. 

"What in the world are you doing?" Mallory asked, hopping off the paper covered bed and crossing her arms over her chest. As suspected, Sherlock turned around. He wore a white lab coat over his button up shirt. He had even brought a stethoscope. 

"You lied." Sherlock pointed an accusing finger her way. She shook her head as Sherlock continued. "You're not working."

"Sherlock- why are you pretending to be a doctor?"

"You wouldn't answer my texts." Sherlock reaches up and shrugs off the lab coat. He turns and hangs it on a hook fixed to the door. 

"What texts?" Mallory asked, reaching into her pocket and grabbing her phone. A notification was the first thing she saw. It read: 20 New Messages. "Oh, well what did you want?"

"I need help on a case."

"I don't know if you noticed, but I'm rather busy." Mallory gestures to the room around her. 

"You're not in pain." Sherlock muses, his deductions begining. Would this happen everytime she saw him? "You reapplied your makeup before you came here, tucked your shirt in too- why is your skirt higher than normal?"

"Why are you looking?" Mallory shrugs. "I'm getting information, just-" Mallory pauses hearing the door handle turn. Sherlock quickly steps over to the bedside as Mallory sits back on the bed itself. Without warning, the door flings open, revealing Doctor Hanson. 

"Hello Mallory. How are you today?" He asks, looking down at a clipboard. The door closes on it's own behind him.

"She's not well." Sherlock replies before Mallory could. Hanson looks up, surprised by the voice. The detective smiles, slipping his arm across Mallory's shoulders and giving her a squeeze. Mallory tries to ignore the feeling she gets from his actions, but the heat traveling to her cheeks screams loud and clear. 

"Sorry, didn't notice you there. You are?"

"Sherlock, her soulmate." He reaches down with his free hand and grabs hers, intertwining his fingers with hers. Mallory shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't uncomfortable because of Sherlock, she just wasn't used to this kind of affection. Mallory's lips pulled into a tight smile.

"He's just wonderful isn't he?" Mallory spoke through gritted teeth. She laughed as if it would sell this whole act. "Have you met your soulmate Doc?"

"Yes," He nods and holds up his hand. A silver band sat around his finger. It was unusually dirty, but around the top it was clean. "Married her- now about your pain, when did it start?"

Doctor Hanson's eyes turned to the clipboard in his hands. Mallory took this opportunity to glance at Sherlock. His eyes were on the doctor at all times. He was concentrated on the man, so much so that he hadn't noticed he was running his thumb along Mallory's hand. 

"About a month ago." Mallory replied, looking to the doctor. He nodded. "Do you have any idea what might be causing it?"

"Might just be some bug you caught, I'll go ahead and prescribe some medication for your pain while some tests are being run." He pulled a pen from the top of the clipboard and clicked it open. "This medication I'll be prescribing is a new one- don't worry it's been tested- but the higher up wants us to try this out."

"Oh that's nice." Mallory nodded. "Who exactly is the higher up?"

Hanson looks up at her question, almost shocked that she asked. Mallory picks up on that before he hides it by looking back down at his papers. 

"Well you don't have to worry about that, dear. I'll get this sent to the pharmacy, have a great day." Hanson left the room before anymore questions could be asked. As the door clicked shut, Sherlock pulled his arm and hand away from Mallory. She tilted her head up at him.

"What'd you get?"

"He's cheating on his wife. The outside of his ring is dirty but the rim is clean, he takes it off frequently and not just to wash his hands. There was a hint of perfume on him and a ketchup stain on his shirt. He wore that shirt yesterday since it's not even close to lunch and who would have ketchup with breakfast?

He was scared when you asked about the higher up, he didn't know how to answer. Him leaving quickly just makes him more suspicious. Someone is using him, blackmailing him, using the cheating to their advantage."

"You're right about the cheating." Mallory pushed herself off the bed and stood up. "We have a file on him, he has been connected to a handful of overdoses and I bet those pills aren't just painkillers." She sighs. "Come on."

They both left the room, leaving out the back entrance. Mallory crossed her arms over herself, regretting not bringing her coat today. She made it halfway down the alley before Sherlock stopped her. Mallory turned to him, raising a brow.

"We're going out tonight." He tells her with a nod. Mallory stares at him.

"What." She narrows her eyes.

"A date, you told me that's what you wanted." Sherlock shifts uncomfortably.

"I don't recall saying that." Obviously she thought about it, but she never said it out loud.

"Really? I must've been hearing things." Sherlock muttered, looking away. He turned his attention back to Mallory. "Well?"

"Well what?" Mallory asks, knowing all too well what he was asking. She just wanted to hear him say it again. He rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh.

"A date- don't make me say it again." 

"I'll have to think about it." She reaches forward and pats his chest. "But I suppose you could deduce an answer out of me?" She pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingers. His hand came up and wrapped around her wrist, his fingers pressing against her pulse point.

"You're pupils are dialated." He mutters, letting go of her wrist as she pulls her hand away. Mallory's lips turn up into a small smile.

"So are yours." She retorts, turning on her heel. "I have to go, pain medication is waiting for me."


	6. The 'Date'

_Previously_

"A date- don't make me say it again."

"I'll have to think about it."

~

"You want the rest of the night off?" Mycroft asked, looking at her over the papers he held up. Mallory stood in front of his desk, her hands behind her back and a smile upon her lips. "Wipe that look off your face, it won't help."

She sighed and dropped the act. Mallory gave her boss an 'I asked you three times already just give me a straight answer' look. Mycroft set down the papers and narrowed his eyes at Mallory.

The day was hectic enough and the fact that Mallory had agreed to Sherlock's date only made her seem crazy. She reported back to Mycroft after getting the pills and he sent them off to get tested. Mallory failed to mention the fact that Sherlock had accompanied her. It wasn't all too much of a big deal.

"Why?" Mycroft questioned. Mallory relaxed, glad he said something other than repeating her question. She put a smile back on her lips which Mycroft frowned at. He didn't like playing these games unless it was in his favor.

"I have plans." She replied.

"Which are?" He leans forward on the desk, his hands clasped together in front of him. His eyebrow raised in question.

"None of your business." Mallory spoke with the most innocent smile she could conjure up. Mycroft's frown deepened as he leaned back with a sigh.

"It truly hurts Mallory, when you don't trust me with this information." He sighs almost as dramatically as Sherlock. She didn't think anyone could be as dramatic as him even if they tried. "If you wanted to go on a date with Sherlock..." Mycroft trailed off, his eyes on Mallory. She was caught off guard by the words 'date' and 'Sherlock' in the same sentence; Mycroft picked up on it. He smiled now. "When you go see him tell John he owes me."

"You bet on us?" Mallory asked, now relaxed. She was glad he wasn't making fun of her for it. "What happened to not gambling?"

"It wasn't gambling, it was an investment." Mycroft shrugs. Mallory narrows her eyes at the man.

"I'm taking half for emotional distress." Mallory turns on her heel and walks out of his office. She smiled as she heard him audibly gasp. The woman continued on her way, only stopping at the receptionist to check out. All it took was one goodbye and a taxi ride for her to arrive home.

Upon entering her humble abode she checked her phone. There were, in fact, a total of zero messages. She took it upon herself to call. Mallory placed the phone upon her dresser to ring as she began thumbing through the clothes in her closet.

"What?" Sherlock's voice replaced the ringing.

"Hello to you too." Mallory muttered, pulling out a red dress. A dress? Why was she even considering it? She pushed it back into her closet.

"Yes, hello, now what?" He grunted, heavy breathing following. Mallory paused, her hand gripping a shirt as she looked over her shoulder at the phone. She grew silent, a smile creeping onto her lips.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand falling to her side. From the phone came a few more grunts before a final heavy sigh came through.

"Nothing anymore." He spoke through breaths. Sherlock cleared his throat. "People enjoy picking fights...I have to call Lestrade."

"Okay, did you want me to hang-" Mallory cut herself short as she heard three shots, and not only through the phone. "Are you near me?"

"Eight buildings down." He replied. Mallory walked over to the phone, putting her hands on her hips as she looked down at the screen.

"Interesting."

"I didn't forget." Sherlock says. Outside, she heard sirens fly past. Seconds later, the sirens came from Sherlock's end.

"Sherlock-" Another voice came through the phone. It sounded like Lestrade, but Mallory couldn't be too sure since everyone sounded different through a call.

"I'm on the phone, can't you see?" Sherlock said out of annoyance. Mallory held back a laugh as Lestrade and Sherlock continued bickering. It took a minute before Sherlock spoke again. "I'm coming."

"Now?"

"Yes that's what that means."

"I suppose." Mallory looks up at the mirror before her. She reaches up and brushes her hair behind her ear. It was up in a bun but strands had fallen loose throughout the day. Her makeup from before had been taken off as soon as she got back to the office. She wore the same clothes, but changed her shoes. Mallory paused, narrowing her eyes. Why was she caring all of a sudden how he saw her? She was presentable after all.

She looked back at the phone, hearing the cars pass Sherlock. She wondered if the same cars she heard outside were the same passing him right now, but there was no way to tell. She was never into cars.

Maybe part of her did care. Mallory shook her head at the small thought. It was nothing but a theory.

The line went dead in that moment and a knock replaced the static. Mallory smoothed down her clothing, grabbed her phone, and left her bedroom. She got to the door and twisted the lock before grabbing the knob. She furrowed her brow when she realized she had just locked it. Had she not locked it when she came home? Shaking her head at herself, she unlocked it before opening the door.

Sherlock stood on the other side, his hair messier than usual, but his clothes as neat as can be. His hands were behind his back as he rolled on the balls of his feet. He didn't smile immediately, but when he did Mallory smiled back.

"We should go then?" Sherlock brought an arm up for her to hold. Mallory hesitated for a moment before nodding. She slipped her arm around his and stepped out. Mallory shut the door and locked it before Sherlock pulled her to the streets.

Mallory's side pressed against Sherlock's as they walked. Normally, she'd be bothered by someone invading her personal space, but it was different. Even Sherlock pulled her closer as wind rushed past. He wasn't cold and neither was she.

"Where are we going?" Mallory decided to ask after a while of walking. Sherlock kept his eyes ahead, almost as if he was scanning the area. A lot of people were walking the sidewalk today and it was almost as if he was looking for someone.

Sherlock hummed in response, his lips parting as he narrowed his eyes over the crowd. Mallory, now curious, looked in the general direction he was. She scanned the area, not seeing anyone who looked remotely suspicious. Instead of looking for suspicious people, she looked for someone recognizable; that's when she spotted John. He looked to be on a date of his own. It was harder for Mallory to look over the crowd considering she wasn't as tall as Sherlock.

"Sherlock." Mallory said, looking over at the detective. His head snapped down to her, eyebrows raised in question. She laughed lightly, ignoring the fact that she knew exactly what he was doing. He, most likely, wanted to follow John to keep watch. Someone must be after them. "I asked where we were going."

"Oh." He turned his attention back to the crowd in front of them. "There." Sherlock nodded towards a restaurant on the corner of the street. Mallory looked up just in time to see John slipping inside.

"Did you pick it by yourself?" Mallory asked as they walked faster now.

"No, John showed it to me." At least he didn't lie.

The two entered the small restaurant. It was family owned and very cozy. Sherlock pulled Mallory to a far booth in the corner. He slid into the side facing the rest of the room while Mallory sat on the side facing the wall. Her view of the wall was obstructed by Sherlock, but she didn't mind too much.

As Sherlock acted very obvious in looking past her to John, who was conveniently across from them, Mallory picked up the menu. She purposely stood it up, now obstructing his view. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the back of the menu. When she made no move to put it down, Sherlock reached up and pulled down the top, pressing the menu flat against the table.

"Problem?" Mallory asked with a quirk of her brow.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, replying slowly. "No..." He moved his hands to his lap and leaned back in the seat. "You know."

"Of course." Mallory shrugs. She reaches forward and adjusts the sugars at the end of the table. "You're very obvious."

"I wasn't trying to be discreet. I can be secretive, trust me." He says as if he needs to justify himself. Mallory shrugs again.

"Never said you couldn't be." She paused, allowing a waitress to set a bowl of bread on their table before walking off. "Are you in trouble?"

"Yes," Sherlock leans forward, his eyes flick to the bread and then to Mallory. "I always am."

"Why are we following John? What is it this time?" She leans forward as well, her elbows on the table and hands clasped together in front of her.

"He has a date." Sherlock says with a hint of hatred.

"Are you jealous?" Mallory raises her brow.

"No." He says this in a defensive tone.

"You are- it's okay to be jealous Sherlock..." Mallory smiles at him. He rolls his eyes letting out one dramatic sigh.

"I'm not. She's suspicious."

"How?"

"Have you seen her?"

"No," Mallory sighs this time. "Unfortunately I can't see over people and at this angle it would be awkward to do a turn and look."

"Then sit over here." Sherlock scoots over. Mallory straightens up.

"That'll look suspicious." She crosses her arms over her chest.

"He's too busy looking at her to notice." Sherlock urges. Mallory takes a quick glance over her shoulder before nodding and switching sides. The booth isn't terribly long, leaving Mallory and Sherlock no room between them. As to make it more comfortable, Sherlock moves his arm around the back of the booth.

"Oh she does look suspicious." Mallory mutters. The woman with John wears all black. She has a plump purse sitting beside her as well as a large coat. "She's laughing way too much-"

"I know. John isn't that funny." Sherlock interrupts.

"How is that comfortable? She has her feet on his lap- why is he out with this woman?" Mallory turns to look at Sherlock. His focus is on the two before them.

"He found her on a dating website, doesn't look like her picture." Sherlock mutters. She looks back at the two on a date.

"He's probably desperate to find his soulmate. John seems like the type to need an anchor." Mallory says, looking back at Sherlock only to find him looking at her already. He doesn't look away, quite the opposite actually. He looks closer, if it's even possible.

Being this close to someone can reveal a lot of unanswered questions. Someone at this proximity is less likely to lie than someone sitting across from you. It's because they feel safe and secure. At this moment in time, Mallory didn't know what she felt. Sherlock had an idea of his feelings. They were rather apparent by his body language.

However, both were oblivious to these things. They were so oblivious neither had noticed Sherlock's arm slipped from the booth to Mallory's shoulders. They didn't even notice how they leaned into each other's side. If one were to move right now, the other would lean closer. Of course, neither of them moved away, they moved closer. In fact, they had moved so close that their noses were touching.

"Excuse me." A nervous voice broke the silence between them. Mallory blinked, noticing the situation and leaning back, looking over at the young teen standing at the end of the booth. She wore an apron around her waist and a plaid shirt. In her hands were a paper and pen. "Are you ready to order yet?"

"Don't be nervous, it's not professional." Sherlock said, looking over Mallory at the girl.

"We need a few minutes." Mallory smiled, ignoring Sherlock's comment. The girl slowly nodded, still processing the detective's words as she stepped away.

"John's looking." Sherlock muttered, grabbing the menu and propped it up on the table. He ducked his head behind it and Mallory did the same.

"When you said date-"

"Not what you expected?" He interrupted, glancing over at Mallory.

"I actually expected you to use me for some case you were working on, this is an upgrade." She states with a small smile. Sherlock's lips pull up into a smile as well. The two snicker behind the menu like teenagers sneaking around. They had been so amused amongst themselves that they didn't notice John leaving. It was only until the server came up again that they realized.

Sherlock quickly dismissed the waitress and ushered Mallory out onto the streets, both still giggling like idiots.

"He's walking her back, come on." Sherlock grabs hold of Mallory's hand and leads her down the street. Their fingers find the empty spaces between each other and interlock together. Again, neither of them noticed. They practically run down the street until they reach the place Sherlock calls home.

He pushes open the door and leads Mallory inside. They walk up the stairs and into the flat. Mallory was surprised at how clean it looked, she would have assumed it would be messy.

Sherlock sat himself down on one of the chairs, leaning back. Mallory sat down across from him, folding her hands in her lap. He brought his hands up in the shape of a triangle to rest his chin upon.

"Have you done anything since I left?" John's voice broke through the silence a moment later. Sherlock closed his eyes as if he was deep in thought. "Oh, hi Mallory."

"Hello John." She greeted with a small smile.

"Has he been like this the whole time?" John asks, shrugging off the coat he wore. Mallory looks to Sherlock and back to John. She nods. "He is the oddest man I know."

"Thank you." Sherlock mutters. "How was the date?" He opens his eyes, lowering his hands down to his lap.

"Fine." John answers, turning his back as he walks to the kitchen. Mallory turns to look at Sherlock.

"It wasn't fine." She mouths. Sherlock's lips pull up into a small smirk.

"Well!" Mallory says rather loudly. She stands from the chair and clasps her hands together. "I really should be going, goodbye John. Sherlock... Oh and John, you owe Mycroft."

"Bye Mallory." John mutters. He's more focused on an experiment Sherlock had laid out on the kitchen table. She figured her words would set in later. Mallory turns to Sherlock. She's taken aback by how close he had gotten.

"I'll walk you out." He brushes past Mallory and back to the door. She gives John one last wave before following. They get down to the front door and stop. She looks up at Sherlock.

"Bye." He reaches past her and pushes open the door without breaking eye contact.

"Bye." Mallory repeated. She slipped past him and out the door. Mallory continued on her way, not looking back. At this point in time she realized her feelings for Sherlock were not friendly. These ties to him would be the death of her, maybe literally.

It took her a few minutes to get back to her home. As she entered, something felt off. Mallory brushed off the feeling. In this line of work she always felt like she was being watched, now was no exception.


	7. Unnecessary Threats

_Previously_

Mallory brushed off the feeling. In this line of work she always felt like she was being watched, now was no exception.

~

Waking up is hard for a lot of people. Often there are times when you wake up and have no memory of falling asleep. There are also those rare times when you don't remember falling asleep or remember getting to bed. In this case, Mallory didn't remember falling asleep and she definitely didn't remember tying herself up to a chair in an empty building. She most definitely didn't remember if she turned off her lights. That didn't really matter much when she had a pounding headache and an itch on her leg that she couldn't reach. This was definitely torture.

-

Lestrade drug a hand down his face, groaning in frustration. He placed his hands on his hips, looking over at the scene in front of him. He felt a headache already forming. 

"Why is the freak here?" A female's voice mused beside Lestrade. He shook his head.

"I have absolutely no idea. I'm afraid to ask." He mutters, watching as Sherlock stumbles around the living room of the house they stood in. He picks up pillows, sets them down, picks up plants, sets them down. He snapped at anyone who even set foot in the house. Lestrade stood at the doorway, it was a compromise. 

They'd been sent to this house early in the morning by anonymous orders. They just knew they had to. An hour later, Sherlock appeared. No one knew why and no one confessed to calling him. Lestrade couldn't care less, it was too early to deal with Sherlock. 

"This isn't right." Sherlock said to himself.

Lestrade sighed, afraid to speak. "What isn't right?" He took a step into the house as Sherlock looked around. "If you'd stop for a second I'd tell you what happened. A girl was taken-"

"Mallory." Sherlock corrected. He looked over at Lestrade narrowing his eyes. "Use her name." 

"Okay- Mallory was taken from her home presumably last night at 9-"

"No, 10:35. She left my flat at 10:25 it takes her ten minutes to walk home." Sherlock corrects again, stepping over to the kitchen. 

"She was with you?" Lestrade asks, stepping into the house further. This was hardly a crime scene, there were no signs of struggle, the only thing that showed someone left in a hurry was the opened door and the anonymous caller claiming to see someone. Other than that, they've found nothing.

"No she just happened to be lurking around my flat." Sherlock said rather sarcastically. He turned around, facing Lestrade once again.

"Sherlock, no one called you, why are you here?"

"Why must you ask such idiotic questions?" Sherlock retorts, snatching a piece of paper off the counter and shoving it into his pocket. Lestrade stepped forward, pointing a finger at Sherlock.

"Hey, hold on you can't take that." His words fell on deaf ears as Sherlock began walking out.

"I'll see you around Gerald, I've got a case." Sherlock called as he left. Lestrade stood dumbfounded, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Let's wrap this up." He called to the officers outside. Lestrade's headache grew. He didn't even know why he was here, it wasn't his department.

-

Mallory reached down, scratching her leg with a satisfied smile. Finally. She looked to her right, noticing a small child staring at her. She brought a finger to her lips, signalling for them to stay silent. The child nodded and quickly sat back. 

Mallory leaned back against the bus seat and closed her eyes, enjoying the cushion more than the metal chair she was sat in for hours on end. It was nice to finally be out. 

"Excuse me." The voice caused a frown to appear on Mallory's face. She opened her eyes, seeing the bus driver in front of her. The bus was stopped. She glanced out the window, noticing the familiar building. "Your atire- it's making the rest of the people uncomfortable-"

"No worries!" Mallory smiled, standing up. The driver took a step back, stumbling as they did so. "This is my stop anyways." 

Mallory walked down the isle, ignoring the whispers. She knew how she looked, it didn't make a difference, it wasn't her blood afterall. Mallory stepped off the bus and walked straight into the building. She kept walking, ignoring the gasps and calls of her name. 

She pushed open a door, stepping inside and crossing her arms over her chest. Mycroft looked up, a shocked expression on his face. He dropped his pen, standing quickly.

"Mallory-"

"I was kidnapped, any idea who?" She asked, raising a brow. 

"What did you do? You're-"

"I know, the blood. I had to get out, they're still alive." Mallory shrugs. Due to her white shirt, the blood stood out more. It wasn't all too much, just a few dots on her shoulder and a larger spot on her stomach. "I can see your concern- you really tried looking for me."

"I sent out Lestrade." He retorts, shrugging off his coat. He held it over his desk towards Mallory. She reached up, her hand settling on the material just as the door burst open. 

"There you are." An exasperated voice sounded behind Mallory. Mycroft furrowed his brow, looking past her. 

"Sherlock?" Mycroft questioned.

"Don't take his jacket you don't know where he's been. Here." Sherlock pushes a lump of fabric in his hand to Mallory. She slowly takes it, recognizing the material. 

"Were you in my closet?" She questions, looking up at Sherlock. His lips quirk up into a small smile that only she notices.

"Mallory, get changed. Sherlock, a word." Mycroft's voice turned to his demanding one. That meant he means business, but to Mallory it means that he's trying too hard, and Sherlock just finds it amusing. Nonetheless, they both do as they were told.

Mallory trudges off to the ladies room, locking the door behind her. As much as it was a public bathroom, she wanted time alone right now. She unbuttoned the white and red shirt, throwing it into one of the sinks before grabbing the new shirt. Mallory held it out in front of her at arm's length. It was a dark red blouse that she had buried in her closet. It looked nice, but she hadn't worn it in forever. Shrugging, she put it on. The skirt wasn't ruined, but she decided to change anyways. Thankfully, Sherlock grabbed pants.

Mallory exited the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand. She entered her own office, dumping her clothes at her desk before turning to leave. She stopped, gasping as she bumped into, none other than, Sherlock. He rose a brow, looking down at her.

"Come with me." He said, turning around instantly. Sherlock walked forward, his coat trailing behind him. Mallory followed. Her pace slowed as she realized where he was taking her.

"You guys are not..." She said, trailing off as Sherlock stopped in front of a door, pulling it open and ushering her inside. An interrogation room. She only liked them when she was on the other side of the two way glass. 

Mycroft stood with his back against the two-way glass. Inside the room sat the large metal table and a metal chair. Mallory stood in the doorway, her eyes drifting over to the chair. After being tied up to one, she didn't feel like sitting. 

Sherlock placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her inside enough to allow him to shut the door. He moved past her and sat in the chair himself.

"Tell us what happened." Sherlock is the first to speak. Mallory hadn't moved other than when Sherlock pushed her. She looked to Mycroft, who's eyes were on her, and then Sherlock, who's eyes were closed. Mallory sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked to the floor.

"I got back home after leaving you and John." Mallory begins. The brothers grow silent, listening intently. Mallory's voice is the only sound in this room. "And then I just woke up tied to a chair in the middle of an abandoned building- you know typical bad guy location so 'no one can hear you scream'. They didn't talk to me or even look my direction. After hours of just sitting there, this guy came in. He held a phone to my ear and this person spoke to me. He said- and I quote- 'You will be my favorite toy.'"

Mallory glanced up at the two in the room. She shrugged. "Then they got mad." Sherlock's eyes opened. "Mostly because I didn't want to talk. Long story short, I got out because they didn't know how to tie a knot. So are we going to sit here or do you want me to show you where they had me?"

"No." Mycroft spoke in his usual dull tone. "Mallory I'm glad you're safe and ready to cooperate in investigating this, but I'm sending you home." Mallory understood why Mycroft came to this decision. It was evident that she was shaken up and just hadn't shown it yet. She wouldn't deny that she has been waiting to get home to break down. Even a person as emotionally strong as Mallory has limits. That's why she nodded.

Sherlock stood abruptly. "No need, she's staying with me." He popped the collar of his coat.

"Sherlock." Mycroft said as a warning. Mallory looked between the two as they had a silent argument with their eyes. Sherlock turned to Mallory seconds later, walking forward and extending his hand.

"Shall we?" He asked, shaking his hand as to bring attention to it. Mallory looked past him to Mycroft who looked beyond annoyed. She slowly placed her hand down upon Sherlock's. Mallory didn't really want to burden Sherlock with her presence, but she really didn't want to be alone either.

The way to 221B Baker Street was a blur. Even walking up the stairs Mallory still wasn't sure where she was going. It was when Sherlock urged her to take a nap that reality came crashing down.

Her soulmate had left her in his room to rest as he did who knows what. She laid under the covers, curled into a tight ball. Her hands gripped the sheets as she stared at the wall in front of her. Mallory sat up when she realized she had started crying. She didn't want to ruin his pillow.

She knew crying was a natural thing and no one should be ashamed of doing it, but she was. She felt weak for letting herself be taken. In her own home of all places, she was supposed to feel safe there. Now she didn't know if she could look at it the same. 

Mallory's eyes shut tightly as she wrapped her arms around herself in a comforting way. She sat there for a minute, she knew because she counted. Counting helped calm down her breathing and she wasn't ready for a panic attack. Suddenly, she felt a hand against her cheek. Mallory flinched, squeezing her eyes tightly.

"It's me." Sherlock's voice reached her ears. He spoke softly. There was a hint of emotion there, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Mallory didn't open her eyes. She felt the bed dip and then, arms wrapped around her, pulling her into Sherlock's chest. 

Both of them tensed up. Mallory was shocked by his actions and Sherlock wasn't sure he even did the right thing. Slowly, they relaxed. Mallory moved her arm from where they were trapped to embrace Sherlock. She placed her forehead against his shoulder, closing her eyes. Sherlock didn't know what to do, but he knew one thing, she was successfully comforted. Being this close, he could feel her heart beating. It had changed from a rapid rate to a calmer one. His mission was accomplished.

"This is strange." Mallory spoke after a while. Her voice still resembled one of a person who had just been crying, yet her tone was more confident. Sherlock moved his hands very stiffly against her back for the first time.

"I don't-"

"Hug?" Mallory finished for him. Sherlock nodded and even though she couldn't see him, she felt it. "I don't either."

"Well there's a first for everything I suppose." Sherlock mused.

"Mycroft hugged me once." Mallory spoke after another spout of silence. Sherlock shifted, relaxing a bit more now that they were having a conversation.

"Really? Did you take a bath after?" Sherlock asked, amusement in his voice. Mallory laughed lightly, lifting her head. Her neck hurt from how long she held that position. Slowly, the two seperated, sitting across from each other on the bed. Mallory patted down her hair, looking over at Sherlock.

"Thank you Sherlock. I know I'm bad at expressing-"

"Emotions? I know." Sherlock pushes himself from the bed and stands, brushing himself off. He paused, looking to the floor, clearing his throat. Sherlock seemed hesitant, but he spoke anyways. "You don't...have to be so guarded around me." His eyes shift over to Mallory. "We all have our demons Mallory. I won't judge yours." 

Mallory remined silent but Sherlock understood. The eyes tell a lot about a person. Hers told him that she trusted him. It was a nice feeling. 

-

Time flies when you're asleep, and no one seems to care. Mallory woke with a start, not because of a nightmare or a demon pulling off her covers, but a pan colliding with a tiled floor. She got out of bed as quickly as she could and rushed down the small hallway until she skidded to a stop at the kitchen opening. 

John looked up, a shocked look on his face. He was bent over, hands on a pot that had fallen onto the ground. He stood quickly. "I'm so sorry, it slipped."

"It's okay." Mallory breathed out, running a hand through her hair to move it out of her face. "Instincts."

"Yeah, you worked for...?" John asked, placing the pot back into the cupboard.

"The FBI." Mallory filled in. She stepped over to the small table, noticing it was actually clean. She pulled out a chair and sat down. John pulled the chair in front of her and sat himself down.

"Why come here?" He asked, curious about her life. 

"Classified." Mallory shrugs. In reality, it wasn't classified. She just didn't feel the need to explain. John nodded anyways.

"So." He began, raising his brows. Mallory's lips quirked up as she knew what he was going to ask. "How is it being Sherlock's... soulmate?"

She resisted the urge to smile. He seemed so scared to ask such a question. John had probably tried asking Sherlock and got no response. He was curious, Mallory was curious too. 

"Absolutely wonderful, I'm a joy to be around." The man himself, Sherlock Holmes, spoke for Mallory, stepping into the kitchen's entrance. Mallory looked over at him. He fixed his coat's collar even though it didn't need to be fixed. 

"Well John it was nice talking, but I'm afraid I work for a very sensitive man who gets annoyed when I don't come in on time." Mallory smiles at the end of her words. John nodded, waving her off. She walked over to Sherlock, who began walking down the stairs and out the door. She followed, staying close to Sherlock. They walked in silence until they stopped in front of Mallory's home. 

She stepped up to the door, reaching into her pocket and grabbing her keys. Her hands fumbled with them before she managed to successfully open it. Mallory stepped inside, glancing around. Sherlock shut the door behind him and making sure it was locked before moving to stand next to her. 

"Were you here with Lestrade?" Mallory asked, her eyes wandering her home.

"Yes, they didn't want me though." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumbled sheet of paper, holding it out to Mallory. She plucked it off his palm and opened it. "They left that. I figured you would've gotten away from them. Their handwriting is sloppy, they were in a hurry. If they tied you up- which they did- they would do it sloppily. I knew you'd get out."

Mallory stared at the writing. It read: What do you have that you don't share, and when you share you don't have it? 

"What do you have that you don't share, and when you share you don't have it?" Sherlock mused. "Do you know the answer?"

"Yes." Mallory mutters. She crumbles the note and stuffs it into her own pocket. "I need a shower."

Mallory walks forward straight into her room and shuts the door. She presses her back against it, closing her eyes. A creak is heard followed by a movement against the wall. Sherlock was messing with her books, the board near the bookshelf always creaked. She opened her eyes, looking at her bed.

She remembered everything. Once she set foot into the house she remembered it all. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails biting her skin.

They grabbed her when she got into her room. She was thrown down onto the bed, her head hitting the bedframe. It hurt, but it didn't knock her out. There were three of them. She remembered their hands everywhere as she struggled against their efforts to hurt her. That's all she remembered.

Mallory pushed away from the door and set off to do what she intended. She had to get ready for work.

One shower and a fresh set of clothes later, Mallory stepped out of her room. She found Sherlock instantly. He was sat in the middle of the room, a puzzle cube in his hands. The couches were perfectly empty for him to sit upon, but he chose the floor.

"Did you forget how to sit?" Mallory asked, placing her hands on her hips. Sherlock didn't look away from the multicolored cube, twisting it in different directions. 

"No." He placed the cube on the coffee table and stood with a slight jump. "Mycroft called you, don't worry I hung up for you."

"Thanks." Mallory moved her arms to wrap around herself. Sherlock lifted his chin, his eyes still on Mallory. She quickly put her arms down, narrowing her eyes. "Don't." She turned on her heel, walking up to the front door. Mallory stepped into her shoes, crouching down to fix them around her heel.

"I didn't say anything." He defends, walking up behind her. Mallory shakes her head, opening the door and stepping out.

"You were going to." She says as Sherlock steps out, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. Mallory shuts the door, reaching into her own pocket, searching for her keys.

"But I didn't." Sherlock muttered. "You're not very observant." He adds, holding up Mallory's keys. She paused her actions, snatching them from Sherlock's hand. 

"I usually am when I don't have distractions."

"I distract you?" Sherlock asked as if she had just confessed to a crush. Mallory twisted her keys in the lock, and turned to face him.

"Yes, you do. You're like a child." She brushes past him. Sherlock doesn't miss a beat, quickly following next to Mallory. Sherlock spoke as they walked, mostly defending him being a child, but Mallory didn't pay attention. It all went in one ear and out the other. She was more focused on trying not to run into the people on the streets. There were a lot today. It reminded her of her night out with Sherlock. It also reminded her of what happened after.

"Mallory." Sherlock called. Mallory stopped walking, realizing Sherlock wasn't beside her. She turned around, looking to Sherlock. He stood in front of two glass doors. Mallory cursed under her breath as she walked over to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mallory put up a hand.

"Don't say it." She walked into the building, Sherlock hot at her heels. The two continued on their way. Mallory dropped Sherlock off at Mycroft's office before slipping away to her own. As she entered the room, she froze. A manilla folder sat on her desk, not flat, but propped up. On the front in red lettering it read: Mallory. Mallory quickly closed the door to her office and pushed the folder down. It fell silently against the table. She rounded the desk and quickly opened the folder. Inside sat one picture.

A picture of her and Sherlock, from inside her house. It showed Mallory holding open the door as Sherlock stood on the other side. 

The sound of the door opening made Mallory slam the folder shut, quickly flipping it over. The door opened fully, revealing Mycroft.

"Don't you knock?" Mallory asked. She placed her hands on the desk, her palm pushing down on the folder. Her heart was racing so fast she swore Mycroft could hear it. "Where did Sherlock go?"

"I know what knocking is, I chose not to do it." Mycroft muses, his eyes narrowing as he met Mallory's. "Sherlock is still here, I gave him some toys to play with...I wanted to ask you how you are."

"I'm fine." Mallory shrugs. She doesn't even believe her own words. Mycroft steps into the office, the door falling shut behind him.

"Great. I left information about the men that took you on your desk." He gestured to the manilla folder underneath her palm. Mallory slowly took her hands off the folder, straightening up.

"Mycroft there are people after me." Her tone changes to a more serious one, but her heart still races. "I'm assuming this is not the folder you left me." She slides the folder over the desk to Mycroft. He looks at her with a raised brow before grabbing the edge of it and flipping it to the front. His eyes widen slightly at the letters. Mycroft flips it open, grabbing the photo and holding it up to his eye level. He examines it for a moment before setting it down. 

"No. It isn't." He sighs, reaching into his pocket and typing on his phone. 

"What are you doing?" Mallory asks, watching his fingers move against the buttons as if it will give her any idea as to what he was typing. Mycroft is silent for a moment before he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

"Nothing that concerns you. Now, you are to act as everything is normal. This stays between us." Mycroft picks up the picture and folds it in half. "For now, you shouldn't come to this office. I have reason to believe someone here is leaking information about you. Instead of beind here, you'll work with Sherlock."

"What?" Mallory asked, quite shocked he even suggested such a thing. She wouldn't mind being with Sherlock, but it didn't seem logical to her. "How is that better?"

"It's not," Mycroft sighs, folding the picture again. "My brother may be an idiot but he does know how to avoid people following him. I don't like this anymore than you do, but it's our best option Mallory. I will send you updates."

"How long?"

"You know I can't answer that." Mycroft slips the paper into his pocket. "For as long as it takes. I wish you well."

With that, Mycroft left. Mallory stood in her office, dumbfounded. She hesitated a moment before moving to grab her things and meet Sherlock. She wasn't going to pull the whole 'I can protect myself' routine because she was smarter than that. Anyone in trouble knew they were better off with people than alone.


	8. I'm Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This chapter is more of a filler, I'm figuring things out plot-wise, but enjoy this fluffy chapter!

The day was normal, emphasis on was. It started like this: Mallory woke up on Sherlock's couch- despite an argument the previous night about sleeping in his bed-, she ate breakfast provided by Mrs. Hudson, and now she stood with John in the kitchen, confused beyond her comprehension. And where was Sherlock? Drugged, laying in his bed.

"Okay, tell me again what happened?" Mallory asked, continuing her pacing. She hadn't stopped since they came back. Sherlock, and Mycroft, insisted Mallory stay out of cases for a while especially big ones.

"The Woman, her name is Irene Adler." John began again, speaking slower this time. He held a cup of tea in his hands, looking down at it every few seconds. "She had some pictures and Mycroft said that-"

"Yeah I got that part, I mean what happened to Sherlock." Mallory paused her pacing, turning her full attention to John. He sighs, leaning back in the chair. It squeaks as he does so, filling the spout of silence.

"I walked in on Irene and Sherlock and she was naked." John said this as uncomfortably as he could. "He gave her his coat and then these guys came in and started shooting and- well she injected him with something. They said he should be fine though. Look, I don't think Sherlock is one to cheat-"

"Cheat?" Mallory asked with a raised brow. "Why would you bring that up?"

"Well- I just thought..." John trails off. "You're making that face Sherlock does when I say something stupid."

"It wasn't stupid." Mallory defends. "But I'm not concerned with Sherlock's loyalties, I'm concerned with his well-being. Plus, we're not together."

"But you're soulmates?" John asked hesitantly. Mallory shrugs.

"Yes and soulmates could also mean friendship too." She retorts, looking away. If she was around Mycroft she would keep eye contact, but John didn't know how to read people like her boss and soulmate did. 

"I'm not sure friends-" John begins, but pauses. He reads the room unlike others would have. He clears his throat and leans forward to look down at his tea. An uncomfortable silence creeps it's way between them. John sips his tea, it was cold by now but he didn't feel like it was the best time to complain. 

Mallory had no idea how this worked. She was a smart woman and she knew what it felt like to care for someone, but not in a way more than friendship. The times Mycroft tried to get her to talk about past lovers, she just couldn't. Maybe it's because there weren't many, but it didn't matter to her. Mallory never figured she would be in a relationship. She guessed the tight feeling in her chest, when she saw Sherlock in his condition, was her caring. 

Those feelings tended to interrupt her work.

"I'm going to check on him." Mallory speaks up, looking to John. Instead of drinking the cold beverage, he had been stirring it. Presumably waiting for the right moment to get up and make a new cup. John nodded the slightest and Mallory slipped out of the kitchen. She stepped lightly down the hallway, her attention focused on the room at the end of the hall. That feeling came back, the one you get when you're about to see a family member in the hospital, was it fear? 

The hallway seemed longer than normal, almost as if it was stretching. Mallory paused, realizing she had reached the door. Her hand moved up and she only then realized it was shaking. She grabbed her hand, looking back over her shoulder. She didn't know why she was feeling this way. Mallory took a deep breath, reaching up and twisting the doorknob. She held it tightly as she pushed it open just enough for her to see inside. It wasn't too much, all she could see was the end of his bed. She pushed it open a little more and let the knob go. The door opened on it's own accord, stopping with a creak. 

Mallory took a step in, keeping her eyes down as she quietly shut the door behind her with a click. Her eyes slowly moved up to Sherlock's bed. There he laid, staring straight up at the ceiling. He was awake, but it was clear he hadn't noticed her presence. He really was out of it. Mallory took a step forward, the board beneath her foot creaked. Sherlock blinked, not looking away from the ceiling. She wanted to look up and see what was so interesting, but she didn't.

"Don't look at me like that." Sherlock spoke softly. Mallory stopped where she was, unsure of what to do. She was awkward, sure, but never this much. She felt concerned hearing how weak he sounded. "With pity." He finishes when she doesn't speak.

"I wasn't." Mallory says in all honesty. She didn't know what she felt right now, but it wasn't pity. Sherlock didn't respond this time. "What happened in there...what did she do to you?"

"Beat me." Sherlock muttered, almost mocking. Mocking who? Mallory had no clue. He allowed his eyes to close as he let out a sigh. "I'm fine."

"I'll believe that when you can actually stand." Mallory crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself. "John told me-"

"Told you what? That he walked in on her?" Sherlock questioned in a rather harsh tone. Mallory brushed it off considering his condition. If she had been in his situation, she'd be snappy too.

"Well that too." Mallory sighs, glancing around the room. "Her measurements as the code and all that...I thought you gave her your coat?" Mallory furrowed her brow as she noticed his coat sitting perfectly on a hook. She looked over at Sherlock. His eyes were still closed.

"I can't remember." He lied, very obviously. Again, Mallory brushed it off, but she didn't forget it. 

"I just wanted to check up on you." Mallory finally says. The whole reason she came here was to ask if he was alright. Her question was already answered by this short conversation, but she wanted to hear him say it. It felt better knowing her conclusion was right. What she got was silence. Mallory sighed, taking a few steps forward to the side of his bed. She knelt down, her face level with his. She reached up, and despite her hesitation, she brushed his hair from his face. Sherlock didn't flinch or open his eyes. Mallory moved her hand to rest on his shoulder. He seemed to relax at her touch. It made her happy that she could help him, but at the same time it made her weary. If he was comfortable around her then that meant she was too. She always told herself that when she met her soulmate it wouldn't be forever. Mallory found herself reminding her of this.

"I will be fine." He settles on saying. Mallory nods even if he can't see her.

"Okay." She pats his shoulder gently before standing. Sherlock opens his eyes, meeting hers. They say nothing, but they know what each other means. Mallory gives a small nod and a smile. "You should rest, call if you need anything. I'm not going anywhere- obviously."

"I do need something." Sherlock mutters, closing his eyes again.

"What." Mallory wonders if he's going to ask for tea or even breakfast in bed. He must be hungry since he slept all night. She was sure he'd only woken up an hour previous to her entrance. His voice was still laced with sleep and eyes wanting to close every now and then. As much as he looked peaceful, he didn't to Mallory. She was used to seeing him alive and running around from place to place. Now he just looked...sad.

"I need you Mallory." Sherlock said these words but she didn't register them at first. Mallory froze in her spot. That same feeling came back, but this time it made her feel happy. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she liked this feeling.

"Okay." She stood where she was, unsure of what to do. She decided to just ask. "What do you need me to do?"

Sherlock opened his eyes, glancing over to Mallory. She could tell he regretted it by the way his eyes widened. He must still be trying to get the room to stop spinning. Sherlock looks back up at the ceiling. Mallory takes the hint, rounding the bed and lifting up the covers. She slips under them, laying next to Sherlock. A respectable amount of space sat between them. Mallory now looks at the ceiling with him. It isn't interesting in the slightest.

"Talk." Sherlock spoke softly.

"About?"

"Anything."

And so she did. Mallory spoke softly as to not cause a headache. She started with a story from her childhood about one Halloween where she dressed as a devil and almost got ran over. Then she talked about her high school classes and mentioned how people would line up to try and make her laugh. She told him how there had been a money pool and whoever made Mallory laugh got it all. Mallory then talked about her time with Mycroft, all the good times and bad. She went from how he tripped and ripped his pants to the time they interrogated a man who attacked them. Throughout her stories Sherlock listened intently. He, too, had the strange feeling in him. He was more aware of it's presence, but he brushed it off considering his current state. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

Eventually, Sherlock fell asleep and so did Mallory, much to her surprise. She wasn't tired when she entered the room and talking about herself definitely didn't drain her energy, but she still slept. She wouldn't admit it, but when she woke up she was glad it was next to Sherlock. She was also glad that she hadn't moved much in her sleep. Waking up in an awkward position would be embarrassing enough.

Carefully, Mallory sat up, cringing as the bed creaked. She looked over her shoulder noticing it wasn't her that caused the creak, but Sherlock. He met her eyes for a moment, a bored expression on his features. He sighs, pushing the covers off and standing up. Mallory's eyes widened as she got up and rushed over to his side. Sherlock looked down at her concerned expression with a questionable one.

"What?" He asked.

"What- what? Last time I saw you, you couldn't even stand on your own." Mallory said, looking him up and down. He looked fine, but then again she wasn't a doctor. She supposed a doctor wouldn't even be able to tell if someone was better again just by looking.

"I'm fine now." He walks forward to his coat, lifting up the sleeve. Suddenly, what sounded like a moan, breaks the silence. Mallory's eyes widen as she feels her face heat up. Sherlock froze in his spot.

"That was not me." Mallory defends, only for another moan to sound. Sherlock reaches into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a phone.

"It was me." He says, flipping it open.

"What?" Mallory asks, furrowing her brow.

"My...phone." Sherlock trails off, closing the phone and turning around to face Mallory. "Tea?" He asks, acting as if his ringtone isn't a woman moaning. Mallory stands dumbfounded, watching as Sherlock walks past her and opens the door to his room. "Hello John." She hears his voice muffled through the wall. The question she wanted to ask was on her lips, but she didn't want to know the answer to it. Whose moan is that?

Mallory blinks, wondering if she's dreaming. She pinches her skin. Nope, not dreaming. She runs a hand through her hair as if it'll fix the mess from sleeping. Mallory shrugs and exits Sherlock's room before closing the door. She walks into the kitchen spotting John with his laptop open and mug in hand.

"Good morning Mall-" John cuts himself off as a moan erupts. Mallory looks to Sherlock, who pours water into a cup before dropping a tea bag in. He is unbothered. "Well..."

"That's not me." Mallory defends, once again, since Sherlock won't. Sherlock turns and holds out the cup towards Mallory. She glances at the liquid inside before taking the mug. He begins making another cup.

"Then...?"John questions, confused by the whole situation. Mallory shrugs and shakes her head. She was just as confused.

"Any new cases?" Sherlock asks, turning around and sipping the tea he had just made. Mallory looks down at her own cup. She brings it up to her lips and takes a sip. Sherlock looks to her with an 'is it good' look. Mallory answers by taking another sip. He smiles.

"Not that I know of...but Sherlock you're in no condition to take any." John says, showing his concern.

"I'm fine." Sherlock says for the third time. He moves past the two and plops himself down on his chair. He sets down his tea and grabs the newspaper on the coffee table. 

"Is he really fine?" John asks, more directed towards Mallory. She shrugs.

"I don't know, he's odd." She sits herself down in front of John.

"He can hear you." Sherlock mutters, flipping the page of the newspaper.


	9. The Pen

Time had flown by as quickly as it possibly could. Minutes turned into seconds and hours turned into minutes. Before anyone knew, it was Christmas. As much as this holiday meant a lot to people, it didn't to Mallory. She couldn't remember one year where her family celebrated such an occasion. They always said it wasn't proper to celebrate something they don't believe in.

That's why she was here, with Mycroft, sitting before a fire. Their eyes remained on the flames dancing about as a light tune of music played in the background. Of course she could be anywhere else. Anywhere else including with Sherlock, John, Molly, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson at 221B Baker Street, but no, she was here. It wasn't a tough decision considering Mycroft sent for her, car and all. 

"How is he?" Mycroft broke the silence. He looked over at Mallory out of the corner of his eyes. Mallory pulled the thin blanket from her lap to her shoulders. She got comfy in the chair, bringing her legs up under her.

"You could always ask him yourself though I know you wouldn't dare do that." Mallory looks over at Mycroft seeing him look away and back at the fire. It was all too complicated to try and get the two to be sentimental towards each other. "He's fine- his words, not mine. Personally, I think that woman said something to him."

"How are you?" Mycroft asks, now looking to Mallory. Now it's her turn to look away. She pulls the blanket closer. It's the only sense of warmth she had close to her. She felt herself begin to miss Sherlock, more specifically his hug.

"I'm fine." She replies, looking back to Mycroft. He raises a brow. Mallory sighs," I'm fine." She says with a more authoritative tone. Mycroft glances away.

"I apologize. My brother doesn't know how relationships work- oh right, you two aren't in one are you? You just happen to room together at the moment." Mycroft sighs almost as if he's disappointed. Mallory remains silent because she knows it's true. Her relationship with Sherlock was so complicated that neither spoke of it. Mrs. Hudson tried to question Mallory about it while Sherlock and John were out, but she couldn't answer a single question. Everytime the subject of her and Sherlock's status came up, her brain shut off. 

Mallory looks to Mycroft as his phone rings. He looks down at his pocket, pulling the device out and glancing at the screen before sighing. He pressed the phone to his ear.

"Please don't tell me we're doing Christmas calls now." He drones on. Mallory can see how his face lit up when he saw it was his brother. All these years Mallory always spent this day either working, or here with Mycroft. Not once had Sherlock called- or maybe he had and she never noticed. Mycroft's lips turn into a frown as he continues the conversation with Sherlock. After the short exchange of words finished, Mycroft hung up. He waited a moment before pressing a few buttons.

"What is it now? A case on Christmas?" Mallory pushed the blanket off her shoulders allowing it to fall to her lap. 

"Sherlock believes Irene Adler is going to turn up dead tonight." Mycroft mutters, standing from the chair and pressing the phone against his ear. He begins walking away, leaving Mallory alone with the fire. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and relishing in the moment, before letting it out. Mallory stands, bunching up the blanket and setting it where she once sat. She reaches down and slips on her shoes she had discarded. 

"We'll be there." Mycroft mutters into the phone as Mallory makes her way into the room he had left to. Mycroft hangs up the phone, turning to face Mallory. "I apologize Mallory, but we must go to work."

"I thought I was supposed to stay out of cases." Mallory follows after Mycroft as he reaches the front of his house, grabbing his coat. She grabs hers as well. 

"Well, this is your Christmas present." Mycroft pops the collar of his coat, leading the way out. Mallory follows close behind. 

Before she knows it, she's at the morgue with Sherlock, Mycroft, Molly, and Irene Adler. Except one of those people are no longer breathing. Sherlock quickly identified her and stomped off, Mycroft following.

"Mallory." Molly's soft voice stops her from leaving. She pulls the sheet back over the body. "How did Sherlock recognize her from- not her face?"

Mallory remains silent for a moment before shrugging. "Honestly, I have no idea. I haven't been around him much lately." Molly slowly nods though Mallory figures what ideas are floating through her mind right now. She turned to leave.

"We missed you," Molly said, stopping Mallory again. Mallory looked over her shoulder, the girl began wringing her hands together. "At Sherlock's place today..."

"Oh." Mallory nods. She isn't quite sure what to say.

"Er- are you and Mycroft...?" 

"Mycroft? Oh- no." Mallory shakes her head. If only Molly knew she was Sherlock's soulmate. She didn't have the heart to tell her. "I should be going. Merry Christmas Molly."

"Merry Christmas." She replies as Mallory walks away. She pushes out the doors into the hall, stopping as Mycroft hangs up the phone.

"He took the cigar." Mycroft says, not looking to Mallory. "I don't know what's going on in that head of his." Mallory places her hands in her coat, pulling it close to her body. "Mall-"

"You want me to go after him." Mallory interrupts. "Don't you?" 

"I don't want you to, I need you to." Mycroft begins walking. Mallory waits a moment, glancing to her side and noticing a family through the window. They're crying over a deceased family member perhaps. She looks away, focusing on Mycroft's retreating figure. She couldn't remember a time where she showed as much care for a person as that family did. She wondered if anyone would mourn her own death. 

All of those were unanswered questions she wouldn't find out tonight. The ringing of her phone set her in motion. She walked down the hall, pressing the phone against her ear.

"Hi John, Merry Christmas." She greeted, not having seen him yet today. 

"Yes- Merry Christmas. Er- Mallory. I think it might be best if you came back. Sherlock is- well, he's not himself." John explains through the phone. He's trying his best, but sometimes he's not good with his words. 

"I understand John. I'll be there." Mallory says a quick goodbye before ending the call. Mycroft waited, surprisingly. He dropped her off and said a final farewell before leaving. Mallory stepped up the stairs and knocked on the door. Mrs. Hudson answered, a large smile erupting on her face.

"Oh you're back! I have some left over dessert if you want?" She ushered Mallory in, shutting the door behind her. 

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson, but I think I've had enough dessert for one day." Mallory smiles even though she hasn't had any. Her and Mycroft had dinner, sure, but it was nothing special. Mrs. Hudson nodded and lowered her voice, placing a hand next to her mouth as if telling a secret.

"Sherlock is upstairs, I'm not sure he's well." She nods as if confirming her statement.

"Thank you again." Mallory smiles, nodding. She hears a 'you're welcome dear' as she makes her way up the stairs. As she enters the main room, it's quiet, until she spots John. He looks up from his laptop and gestures with his head towards Sherlock's room. Mallory passes John, giving him a pat on the shoulder as she does. She walks up to Sherlock's door, knocking twice. She waits, hearing no movement. Mallory takes it as a cue to walk in. She twists the knob and slips inside, shutting the door behind her.

"I would've locked it if it wasn't broken." Sherlock mutters. He stands by a window in his room, looking out it. Mallory crosses her arms over herself in a comforting way. 

"No you wouldn't have." She steps out of her shoes, kicking them to the side by his dresser. "You would've stuck the chair under the knob if you really wanted to." Sherlock is silent. Mallory sighs, stepping forward and standing beside Sherlock at the window. There's not much of a view, but it's something. She focuses on the snow falling. "You liked her."

"She intrigued me." Sherlock corrected, though they both knew it was a lie.

"It's fine to like her." Mallory keeps her eyes on the snow. Sherlock does the same.

"Jealousy killed the cat." Sherlock mutters.

"What?"

"What."

"It's curiosity killed the cat." Mallory corrects. "I'm not jealous, I have nothing to be jealous for."

"Why because she's dead?" His tone comes out rather harsh. Mallory blinks, looking down at the floor instead. She didn't want to say yes.

"No." She replies. "Just because we're soulmates doesn't mean we are in a relationship. You can like other people. It's fine to be sad for her death."

"I know it's fine." Sherlock glanced down at Mallory for a moment before returning his attention back to the window. "I didn't like her. She intrigued me."

"I'm sorry Sherlock, but I don't think you'd be this sad for the death of someone who intrigued you." 

"Why did you leave?" He changes the subject quickly. Mallory looks back up at the snow. It began piling on the window sill now.

"Christmas isn't my favorite." Mallory watches as the snowflakes melt into one another. "I spend it every year with Mycroft. I didn't think you cared." 

"I did." Sherlock shifts, unclasping his hands from behind his back and holding out a small box towards Mallory. She hadn't noticed it before. She looks down at it in his hand before slowly taking it. It's a brown box with a black ribbon on it, simple. She pulls at the ribbon, grabbing the lid of the box and pulling it open. Inside sits a pen, a gold strip surrounds where one would hold. Engraved in the gold is her name in cursive. "You always lose your pens when you try and do that crossword in the morning paper." 

Mallory blinks, looking down at the pen. She feels her chest tighten as a lump forms in her throat. Much to her surprise, she fought back a few tears. 

"Thank you." She whispers, placing the lid back on the box. Mallory holds the small box in her hands, looking back out at the snow. This was the first gift she had gotten, of course she was emotional. Sherlock slowly lifts his arm, wrapping it around Mallory's shoulders and pulling her against his side. 

"I didn't think you'd cry over a pen." He muses.

"I didn't cry."

"You were going to." 

"I never got a gift on Christmas." Mallory defends. 

"I didn't like her." Sherlock says suddenly. Mallory looks up at him at this. His eyes are on the snow. "She was different and I didn't know what I wanted, but she kept texting me and I cared. That's why I'm sad for her death."

Mallory turns her attention to the snow. "I get it." She looks down at the box, running her finger over the smooth surface. 

"Mallory." Sherlock almost whispers her name. She doesn't look up, but hums in response. "I don't give just anyone pens."

"I guess I should feel special then." Mallory mutters.

"What I mean is-"

"I know what you mean Sherlock." She looks up at him at this. He gives a small nod.

"Right. Well, do you...?" He trails off. Mallory furrows her brow in feigned confusion.

"Do I what?"

"Don't make me say it."

"If you can't say it then we shouldn't do it." Mallory shrugs, taking a sidestep away from him. 

"I can take the pen back." He narrows his eyes, his arms falling back to his side. 

"That would be rude Mr. Holmes." 

"I'm not known to be nice." Sherlock mutters. He sighs after a moment and steps forward. "Do you want to be in a relationship?"

"With who?" Mallory asks, tilting her head. Sherlock gives her a bored expression to which she simply smiles at. "You know my answer."

\---

The morning comes quick enough and despite Mallory's presence, Sherlock's mood hasn't changed. He continued to mope around and even decided to play his violin. The sad tune filled the silence that morning. Mallory sat on the couch, a cup of tea in hand as she read an article on her laptop. She only looks up from the words on the screen to John and Mrs. Hudson, who wave her over. Looking to see Sherlock busy, Mallory silently gets up and steps over to the two. 

"Has Sherlock told you anything?" John whispers, but he whispers so loud he might as well talk normally. Mallory shrugs and shakes her head. "Has he had a girlfriend before? Any type of relationship?"

"As far as I know, one." Mallory shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself once again. 

"Who?" Mrs. Hudson asks.

"Me." Mallory says as casually as she could. She even surprised herself saying this. John and Mrs. Hudson both wear the same shocked expression. Before either could speak, Sherlock speaks up.

"Mallory lend an ear." 

"Listening." Mallory steps away from the two and back to her spot on the couch. Sherlock begins to play, but she can still hear John and Mrs. Hudson whispering. Before Sherlock finishes his piece, the two scurry off. He stops suddenly, setting down his violin.

"I have to go." He quickly rushes over to the door and grabs his coat off the hook. As he pulls it on, Mallory stands and grabs his scarf, holding it out to him. Sherlock pulls it on and turns to leave, but pauses. He turns on his heel, grabbing Mallory by her shoulders and leaning down, pressing his lips against her cheek quickly before leaving. She stood there for a solid minute, staring down those steps. 

Mallory blinks, turning around and stepping over to her computer. She shuts it and grabs her own coat. Mallory slips on her shoes and grabs her phone before leaving just as Sherlock had. She had no intention of catching up to him.

Instead, she hails a cab and does exactly what she shouldn't be doing. She goes to work. 

-

"Oh!" Mallory gasps dramatically as she opens Mycroft's office door. She never used to knock, why start now. Inside sits Mycroft and beside him stands a woman Mallory recognized. "So I've been replaced."

"What are you doing here?" Mycroft's sighs. "Unless Sherlock is dead-"

"He isn't. I'm coming back to work. Ms. Hanson you can go back to the front desk." Mallory smiles, waving her off. She does as she says, probably glad to be away from Mycroft. He was a difficulty person to work with at times. 

"Sorry, when did I allow this?" Mycroft rounded his desk and shut the door, looking over at Mallory who sat herself down in one of the chair. 

"Right now."

Mycroft saw no use in fighting this, so he allowed it. Despite the fear of people coming after Mallory, nothing has happened so far, so why would it happen now?


	10. New Year, Same Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short chapter, not much happening. I'm unmotivated right now but hopefully that will change.

"So she's alive." John speaks to Sherlock. He looks over at Mallory, but she isn't paying attention in the slightest. Her focus is on the crossword book she holds in her hands. A pen sits in her hand, the end of it poking at her cheek as she scans the page. "How are we feeling about that?" John continues when Sherlock doesn't answer.

Sherlock still doesn't answer. He holds his violin in hand as he turns to face his chair, the chair that Mallory sits in. Sherlock leans over it, pressing his lips against her cheek lightly as the sound of Big Ben chiming breaks the silence. He straightens up, turning around and facing the window.

"Happy New Year, Mallory. John." He says, facing the window. Mallory looks to John who simply shrugs. She turns her attention back to the crossword. John begins his questions again. It was alright to be curious about Sherlock and Irene Adler. Mallory was curious too. Sherlock hadn't opened up about it other than Christmas day. She didn't want to pry.

And that's when her life went back to normal, or as normal as it could working for Mycroft. He kept her busy with small work at first but eventually let her off on her own as he did before. They still had an unspoken, mutual agreement to not dig too deep into something that may cause trouble. As of now, the Woman was Mallory's prime suspect. She wouldn't call her a suspect- as far as she was concerned this woman was actually very smart. If it wasn't for Mallory, Mycroft would've given in to her months ago.

As of now, Irene hadn't made any moves. She hadn't been seen by anyone.

Mallory pushes open the door to Mycroft's office, closing it with a light kick as she steps up to his desk. He doesn't look up from his desk. No papers sit in his line of view, but his phone.

"Bad news?" Mallory asks, but she already knows the answer. She pulls a chair up, about to sit down when Mycroft holds up a hand. "That bad? Where are we going?"

"Not we, you." Mycroft sighs, looking up. He clasps his hands together, fitting them under his chin. "John has informed me that Miss Adler was in Sherlock's bed. She came asking for help."

"You had to include the bed part right?" Mallory asks, raising a brow. Mycroft's lips pull into a small smile. He gives a slight nod.

"Important information Mallory." His smile leaves as quickly as it came. "Go over there and pretend you're in a relationship with Sherlock. She'll get jealous."

"If you insist." Mallory turns to leave, but stops at the doorway. She hadn't told Mycroft about her relationship with Sherlock yet. She was surprised he hadn't figured it out- but then again Sherlock and Mallory only texted. They both had lives and were particularly busy at all hours of the day. She looks over her shoulder at Mycroft. "But I don't have to pretend Mycroft. I'll report back later."

-

"Mallory!" Mrs. Hudson greeted as she stepped through the door. It was night now. Mallory had other business to attend to before coming here, and there was traffic. "Oh- Sherlock has a woman here and he says it's a case but- I don't think so. I've been keeping my eye out!"

"Yes I know. Don't worry yourself Mrs. Hudson." Mallory reassures her. "It is just a case." She gave her shoulder a reassuring pat before moving up the stairs. Mallory paused as she reached the door, her hand hovering over the knob. She could hear Irene from here. Taking a deep breath, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open, stepping inside and gently shutting it with her foot. Mallory looked up at the scene before her.

Irene sat on the floor in front of Sherlock, her hand in his. Sherlock sat in his chair, his eyes breaking away from Irene to look at Mallory. Irene wore Sherlock's robe, her hair down. Mallory never saw her like this- or at all for that matter.

"Am I interrupting?" Mallory asks, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yes." Irene says.

"No." Sherlock speaks at the same time Irene does. He lets go of her hand and she scoots back, standing. Sherlock brushes off his shirt as if there had been dirt.

"Okay." Mallory opens her mouth to continue speaking, but she pauses as she hears a commotion down the steps. She glances over her shoulder, spotting a familiar man. "Well, I guess your chariot awaits." Mallory gestures down the steps and Sherlock nods. He grabs his coat off the hook and brushes past Mallory and down the steps. Irene looks to Mallory, raising a brow. Mallory shrugs and turns on her heel, leaving down where she had came.

She meets Sherlock in the car and the driver speeds off.

"It wasn't what it looked like." Sherlock says now that they're alone.

"I know." Mallory pulls out her phone and begins pressing buttons. She furrows her brow at the text on the screen.

"You're mad." Sherlock observes.

"Yes, but not at you." She closes the phone and stuffs it into her coat pocket. "I'm not going in with you."

"I didn't expect you to." The car stops and Sherlock wastes no time in leaving. Mallory leans forward, glancing to the driver.

"Mycroft wants me at this address." She holds out her phone towards the driver. He takes one look and nods. Mallory sits back, looking down her phone as it lights up.

_Bye_

_SH_

Mallory shut her phone and looked out the tinted window. She didn't have much to think about, not much was going on. To the normal person, this would be chaotic, but this was just another day.

She arrived at the location a few minutes later. Mallory stepped out of the car with a small thanks and looked up at the building before her. She didn't recognize it.

It stood tall. It was painted white with beige, but it didn't stand out. The buildings around it were white as well. Mallory had lived here for quite some him and she never came over here. She glanced down the sidewalk she stood upon. No one was walking, it was late.

She stepped forward, the only sound being her footsteps, Mallory reached forward and grabbed the door's handle, pulling. It didn't budge. She raised her hand to knock just as the door opened. A man in a suit clouded her vision so much so that she couldn't see inside. He wasn't recognizable.

"Mycroft sent me." Mallory pressed her hand against the wood of the door and pushed it open. The man allowed her to do so. She stepped inside and he shut the door behind her. Much to her surprise, the room was empty. The only other person here was a man in a suit. He didn't look anything like the man who had opened the door, he looked like he knew what he was doing.

"Mallory Langston." He broke out in a smile, tilting his head to the right. Of course she recognized him.

"Posing as someone you're not is a crime, Moriarty." Mallory informed, but he didn't seem the slightest bit dazed. He had committed crimes way worse than identity theft. However, he technically never did anything.

"I've been waiting for you Mal." He continues on as if she hadn't even spoke in the first place. "Did you get my message? I would've added a bow but I didn't want to seem too forward."

"It was a little much." Mallory tenses at the memory. It wasn't a good memory. She can still feel the droplets of blood upon her skin. Mallory's face didn't show her trauma.

"Well, well..." Moriarty steps forward until he's toe to toe with Mallory. She didn't move, she didn't even flinch. Her eyes bore into his. From this proximity she could clearly see the lines on his face and the bags under his eyes. He looked tired, but she probably didn't look any better. Moriarty looked down at her hand before wrapping his fingers around her wrist. He brought her hand up between them and twisted it to show the black mark upon it. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I know." He smiled, speaking in a sing-song voice. An image of Sherlock appeared in her mind. Moriarty smiled as if he had seen it too. How could be possibly know? In an instant he turned on his heel and dropped her wrist.

"You know what?" Mallory didn't think it was the smartest idea to play dumb right now, but she wasn't thinking straight. It was very clear now that Sherlock had gained a lot of attention through the media. Mycroft reminded her constantly to not admit her soulmate's name out loud. It was for her safety and his. Sherlock was smart, and private, he knew on his own to not tell. Mallory didn't have anyone in particular to spill to anyways.

"Mal, Mal, Mal." Moriarty tisks, turning to face her once again. "I love games, I do, but stop playing this one. I'm bored of it. I'll be in contact, don't tell anyone about our little encounter. I have-"

"Eyes everywhere?" Mallory finishes. He smiles and nods.

"You understand." He turns again. "Goodbye Mal."


	11. Manipulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long delay I got my wisdom teeth out. Anywho, enjoy!

Mallory held the pen Sherlock had given her in one hand and a notepad in the other. The tip of the pen pressed against the lined paper leaving a spot of ink from how long it had been kept there. Mycroft sat beside Mallory, talking away to a man sitting across from the two of them. It was Mallory's job to take down notes of this meeting, but her mind was elsewhere. She wasn't able to focus when she knew Moriarty was watching her.

She had a feeling he was ever since the whole 'present', but she never thought he would actually do something. Most of the time Moriarty was just talk, no action. He liked to play games and mess with people.

"Well, yes." Mycroft's words brought Mallory from her thoughts. Her eyes averted to the paper, noticing she had nothing but a splash of black ink. She twisted the pen, shutting it, and flipping the cover over the notepad before pressing it against her body. "That will be all. Thank you so much for coming, it's been a pleasure." 

Mycroft stood, extending his hand towards the man. He mirrored his actions and they shook hands. Mallory gave him a slight nod and off he went towards the large double doors. Mycroft stayed standing, waiting for the doors to close behind him before turning towards Mallory so quick she's surprised he didn't get whiplash. 

"What are you doing?" He reached forward and snatched the notepad from her hands. Mycroft opened it up and flipped through the pages seeing nothing but that ink spot. He shut it and looked down to Mallory. "I should replace you."

"You won't." Mallory stands, taking the notepad from his hands. She tucks it under her arm, looking up at Mycroft. "Why are you so angry today, you're not pleasing to be around when you're like this."

"I'm not meant to be pleasing. This is your job." Mycroft turned on his heel and began walking out. He was in one of his moods again. The reason? Only he knew. Mallory wasn't in the best mood either but she didn't let her feelings get in the way of work. Besides, Mycroft would be back to normal in an hour or so. She moved to leave, but paused as her phone began to buzz in her pocket. Mallory pulled it out, expecting Sherlock's name to appear; however, it was a blocked caller.

"Hello?" Mallory answered. Her voice echoed through the empty room. She didn't care all too much who heard, as far as she knew it wasn't a private conversation. A lot of people called her and it ranged from complaints to petty threats towards Mycroft.

"Mal my dear." That voice. She hung up. Not missing a beat, he called again. Mallory groaned, answering.

"I'm not-"

"Don't hang up on me." Moriarty actually sounded annoyed, angry even. His tone sent a chill down her spine. Why did she feel so scared?

"I'm working."

"You're not." His voice goes back to normal, maybe a little higher to show his enthusiasm. He was still playing his little game. "Anyways, I want you to do something for me."

"I'm not a toy you can play with." Mallory begins walking forward to the double doors Mycroft left out of. Her shoes tapping against the floor echo through the room.

"No, you're a game. Much better than some toy." Moriarty hums. "I'll get to the point. You look bored."

Look. His choice of words is what scared her. She remembered now, he was watching her. How could she forget such a detail? 

"I want you to find any information you can on me in that little office of yours." As he spoke, Mallory was already on her way towards the office. Not to fulfill his request, but to meet Mycroft there. He normally went there after one of his fits to apologize or give more work. "Then bring it to me."

"Sure, whatever you say." Mallory spoke in a high pitched, obviously fake, voice. She pressed the button to end the call moments after. Her hand pressed against the door to her office and pushed it open. As suspected, Mycroft stood just beside her desk. His hands were held together behind his back as he stood slightly hunched over. 

"Mallory." He greeted, nodding his head but not making eye contact. She shut the door behind her with her foot and set down the empty notepad on her desk.

"Mycroft." She replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. Just a hint, she was still annoyed by his attitude.

"I would like to apologize." He began slowly. Mallory listened intently. "Formally... for my...behavior." Mycroft spoke slowly, his tone sending a chill down Mallory's spine. She didn't show her concern upon her face. 

"I accept your apology." She gave a short nod, sliding her notepad and pen over to him. Mycroft silently grabbed the pen and began writing on the empty page. He slid it back over.

_He's watching._

Interesting, but Mallory already knew that.

"I'm familiar with your apologies." Mallory responded.

"Well then you know when I mean it. I just want to keep you safe." Mycroft stands stiffly, more than usual.

"I've realized, but I do have things under control here." Mallory placed her phone on the desk. She didn't know where Moriarty was listening or watching from, but her phone was probably an issue. That's how she'd spy on someone anyways. Mycroft reached into his own pocket, pulling out his phone and setting it on the desk. 

"Do you now?" He stepped away from the desk and stopped in front of the door. His hand rested upon the handle for a moment before he pushed it and opened the door. Mallory followed his lead, leaving her office. Mycroft walked behind her, his hands behind his back. They continued until they reached a spare office room. Once the door was shut, Mallory relaxed. 

"He called me." She informs her boss, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's trying to use me."

"Of course." Mycroft nods. "I would too."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a tactical play Mallory, nothing personal. Moriarty will use you because he knows you work for me. He thinks he can get to me by going through you- obviously." Mycroft speaks in a know-it-all tone. Mallory raises a brow, staring at the man for a long while. He stares back with a bored look. Almost as if he's saying: just tell me already I don't want to ask.

"Moriarty doesn't just know about me working for you." Mallory begins slowly.

"Stop with the ominous talk Mallory." Mycroft rolls his eyes in annoyance. He adds a sigh to it as well.

"He knows about me and Sherlock." Mallory uncrosses her arms. "That we're soulmates."

Mycroft looks up at her with an expression she can't seem to read. He blinks, looking down at the floor. She looks to the spot he's staring at. It doesn't look all too interesting.

"Well." He reaches up and fixes the collar to his shirt even though it doesn't need to be fixed. In fact, it needs to be pushed down. "That's new information. I'd appreciate it sooner."

"Well." Mallory narrows her eyes. "I only found out today." That wasn't true, but in the moment it was. 

"How?"

"How does he know?" Mallory repeats his question. She shrugs. "I don't know. He has eyes everywhere."

"Well that's unfortunate." Mycroft tilts his head up, closing his eyes as he sighs. "Don't tell Sherlock."

"I wasn't planning on it. Moriarty is playing his game right now, I was going to play along."

"You were going to go behind my back?" Mycroft doesn't seem too offended or surprised even. It's almost as if he expected it.

"Yes. Obviously." Mallory shrugs. It wasn't too much of a big deal. She was loyal to Mycroft and it was a smart move. It's not like she was going to stab him in the back, mentally or physically. 

"A nice plan I'm sure, but it wouldn't work." 

"Why?"

"Well." Mycroft presses his hands together behind his back. "He called me as well."

Mallory sighs, "Obviously."

"I'm sure it won't be beneficial for me to tell you what he told me. I guess we'll both just sneak behind each other's backs. Don't stab mine." 

"I won't if you don't." Mallory muses. Mycroft gives the smallest hint of a smirk. They exchange a nod before Mycroft parts ways. Mallory returns to her office. As soon as she enters, her phone rings. With a heavy sigh and a quick prayer, she answered.

"Mallory." Mallory instantly relaxed as she heard her soulmate's voice on the other end. She was glad it wasn't Moriarty.

"I need your help." Sherlock continued speaking when she didn't answer. She nodded, then gave a verbal cue for him to continue when she realized he couldn't see through the phone. "I'm questioning my sanity."

"Hasn't that always been in question?" Mallory rounds her desk, looking down at the papers upon it. Nothing too interesting or urgent to do. She sat down in the chair and leaned back.

"Not the point. I'm going insane." He actually sounds worried. A tone she doesn't hear often. Normally when he speaks it's either too fast to hear or too excited to comprehend.

"Where are you exactly?"

"With John, not physically. I'm on a case." 

"And this case is making you question your sanity? I'm assuming..." She leans forward on the desk, her eyes focusing on a specific pen. A small smile comes to her lips.

"Yes..." Sherlock trails off. His breathing is the only thing that comes through the phone. "Tell me something only you would know about me." His voice comes in a whisper. Mallory grabs the pen, rolling it between her fingers.

"You pretend to hate when I make you tea but you actually really like it and only put on the act to urge me to continue making you tea. Your plan failed, however, because I haven't fallen for it. You're like a window Sherlock." 

"Windows can get dirty." He replied in a mutter. His words mix together so much so that Mallory had to take a moment to decipher them.

"Well, yours is clean." Her finger ran over the engraved writing. She set the pen down as Sherlock grew silent. "Well? Was that enough to convince you that you're not going crazy? I don't suppose you want me to tell you how much sugar you put in your tea."

"Sugar?" Sherlock asks. She hears shuffling on the other end. Mallory straightens up in her seat as the shuffling continues. "You're brilliant."

"Thanks?" Mallory replies just before Sherlock ends the call. She slowly brings the phone down and mutters something about a goodbye. Her thoughts turn from Sherlock to Moriarty. Right, he wanted all the information about him.

Mallory pushed herself away from the desk, allowing the chair to roll back. She stopped it before she could go too far and wheeled it over to the large file cabinet. It contained everything she had worked on from people to cases to Mycroft's recipes. There should be a separate stack for personal items, but that's not how Mallory worked. Her mess was organized just how she liked it and that's that.

Once while she was away pretending to work for a retail store to obtain information, Mycroft decided to take it into his own hands to find a file in her file cabinet. After a few minutes he gave up and called her claiming that she was the cause of the massive headache he had gained. That was the last day Mycroft went through her files.

She pulled open the drawer at her level and ran her finger across the top of the tabs. She stopped as she got to the one she was looking for. Moriarty. It was in between John Watson's folder and Sherlock's folder. She still remembered when Mycroft assigned her to make those.

At first he wanted her to make a folder for John, seeing as Doctor Watson was going to be living with his brother. She didn't question it, nor did she question Mycroft's brother. She'd always known he's had one. Then, she made a file for Sherlock when Mycroft grew annoyed. That's the same time when Mycroft made her find his soulmate mark. It was easy really. All she did was go with Mycroft to his parent's house on the weekend and search through baby pictures. Now she realized why she had to do it. 

Mallory shook the thoughts away and rolled back over to the desk, placing the folder upon it. She flicked it open. Inside sat one paper, just one. It was a letter from Moriarty to Mycroft, thanking him. That's all they had.

She could always lie to him and say there's more; however, it wouldn't be a lie if there really was more. Maybe Mycroft had his own file. He did keep his own records as well. 

Mallory stood from her chair, closing his file and carrying it with her out the door. She continued on to the filing room. That's where Mycroft's records were. For obvious reasons, he got a whole room, while Mallory merely got two cabinets. She stopped at the drawer labeled 'M'. He was much more organized. As Mallory pulled open the drawer, she wore a surprised look. There were three manila folders inside, all labeled Moriarty. They were filled with so much paper that they might need a fourth folder. 

This would take a while to go through.


	12. Smile for the Camera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delayed update! I wrote this chapter and then I didn't like it so I rewrote it.

Mallory loved reading. She really did. She loved it when she could sit on a comfy chair and read a new book from start to finish. Mystery novels were her favorite, sometimes the occasional romance but she always saw those stories as unrealistic. In her opinion, they moved too fast in books and movies. In real life it's a slow pace, depending on the person.

For example, Sherlock and Mallory still haven't done much more than hug. Not that she cared. She was just pointing out facts, not caring. Her subconscious didn't allow her to care. Mallory had learned over the years that caring was not an advantage. Mycroft even told her that once. Mycroft had probably been the only man she has opened up to. With Sherlock, she's getting there.

Back to reading and unrealistic relationships, Mallory sat in her office, Moriarty's file in front of her. Not only the one that she had but the three others that Mycroft had hidden away. She'd been going through it for the past hour, maybe more. She lost count.

Just as she turned the next page, her door flew open. Mallory jumped, quickly slamming her hand down and closing the file. She sighed, relaxing as she saw it was only Sherlock. He paused in the doorway, raising a brow. His eyes flicked from Mallory to the pile of folders.

"Knocking is an option." Mallory stood, rounding the desk and stepping in front of it. Her body didn't cover the whole desk, but it did get Sherlock's wandering eyes away from the papers. He focused on her now. Sherlock straightened up and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"I didn't think you were doing anything important." He narrows his eyes at her almost as if trying to read what she was doing. He got nothing other than she looked bored.

"I wasn't." She blatantly lies. Sherlock picks up on it but says nothing. He steps to the side allowing room for her to pass by.

He gestures out the door with a wave of his hand. "I need your assistance." What he meant to say was, 'Would you like to spend the rest of the day with me?' Mallory understood either way. She nodded and stepped out before him.

Before, she'd say no and claim that she had work to do. Now, however, Mycroft had a talk with her. He told her that Sherlock needed to be looked after, especially with John gone almost all day. So, her job now included 'babysitting' Sherlock.

Once outside, Sherlock hailed a cab and before she knew it, she was inside his humble abode. This had been her own home for quite some time, but recently she'd moved back into her own place. It was nice to have some alone time, but it wasn't nice when the nightmares plauged her dreams. Being kidnapped in her own home didn't settle well. Even if she wasn't harmed all too much, it was still traumatic.

Mallory had a sense that Sherlock knew she was still shaken up by it. He'd always walk her back to her home at night and even walk inside for a bit. Around crowds, Sherlock would nudge anyone who had gotten too close to Mallory. Even when they were alone, like now, he refrained from hovering over her shoulder or even stepping into her personal space.

However, he seemed different today. He stood by her side as the two surveyed the various amount of papers scattered amongst the floor.

"You need my assistance in...cleaning?" Mallory crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes shifted to Sherlock, who was already looking down at her. He shrugged and stepped forward, his shoe covering a paper. The sole left a mark of dirt on the page.

He scrunched up his nose in disgust of his own mess. "Yes, John had a fit this morning."

"Oh, John did this, now did he?" She knew what really happened. Sherlock got bored, and probably annoyed, and he made a mess. Mycroft recently complained about Sherlock's withdrawal symptoms. He did like to mention that they were mild compared to before and took full credit for that.

"Yes...quite the messy flatmate." Sherlock spoke with a hint of amusement in his tone. He shrugged off his coat and stepped past Mallory to hang it on the hook.

"Hm..." Mallory knelt down and began gathering the papers at her feet. She didn't bother reading the print on them, it was probably just random cases he'd done in the past or new ones he'd just finished. She held them lightly and dropped them against the wooden floor to straighten them out. "I lived with someone messy before."

Sherlock stepped onto the papers and to the opposite side of the room. He knelt down and began grabbing the sheets as Mallory spoke.

"He was almost as messy as this." Mallory continued. Her eyes stayed down but there was the occasionally glance to Sherlock. "I would wake up and go to the kitchen to see a whole lab set up. One time I walked in and something thick and red was boiling over the stove." She scooted forward, placing the stacked papers behind her in small piles.

"Maybe that person wanted to see if blood had the ability to evaporate in a certain period of time." Sherlock mumbles as he scoots forward, collecting the papers in his hands.

"Don't know." Mallory scooted forward again. "Never asked."

"Did it annoy you?" Sherlock glanced at her with his head tilted down slightly. His eyes shifted back to the papers as he pushed forward.

"Oh. No." Mallory responded, pulling her legs under her and sitting back on her heels. It was uncomfortable since she still wore her shoes, but it was temporary. "I didn't really mind all too much."

Sherlock hummed in response and met Mallory in the middle of the room. His legs moved under him in a criss cross position. He held the stack of papers in his hands and straightened them on the floor between them. Mallory watched as he set them down and continued to line up the sheets. He acted as if he didn't want to look her in the eye, almost as if he was nervous.

But that couldn't be.

Mallory's hands sat in her lap, her fingers tapped against her thigh occasionally. Maybe she was nervous as well.

"Sherlock." Mallory spoke up, her voice quieter than normal. With their closeness she didn't need to speak too loud. The man before her stopped his actions and straightened up, his eyes finally meeting hers. "The papers are fine now."

"I'm aware." He responds quickly. A silence then overtakes them. It's comfortable to an extend. The only thing making them uncomfortable is the fact that they actually have to look at each other. These soulmates were awkward, and it was very clear when things began to get intimate.

They were well aware as they began to lean in. At this point they were so close that Sherlock could smell her shampoo. Mallory leaned forward, her eyes shutting as she felt his breath fan over her lips. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating out of her chest right now. He wondered the same. Sherlock's hand came up and hovered over Mallory's cheek and-

"Oh-!" The sudden voice scared the pair causing them to jump. Their lips brushed against one another as their teeth clashed and noses bumped. Mallory leaned back, cupping her nose and looking over her shoulder at a surprised John. Sherlock quickly stood up and took the papers with him. "Did I...interrupt?"

"Read the room." Sherlock spoke up. John looked over at him and back to Mallory who was rubbing her nose. She shrugs and stands up. As she begins to grab the stacks she had previously made, John utters complete nonsense. He fumbles over his words as the shock of what he had just witnessed was settling in. Mallory straightened up, the paper in hand. She stepped over to Sherlock who was busying himself in straightening the papers, again. Mallory handed him her stack and took a step back.

"Well I should be going." Mallory stated, taking another two steps back. She glanced to John, who was still in shock, then Sherlock, who was still straightening the papers. Neither of them said anything and she took that as her cue to leave. The awkward tension that had filled that room was too much to handle.

As Mallory stepped onto the concrete outside, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It left as quickly as it came once it got her attention. She turned to see Sherlock. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"That's not what I came to get you for." Sherlock breathed out, eyes wide. He looked like he'd just seen a ghost. When Mallory didn't respond, he continued. "I need to do something but I need your help."

"Ok-" Mallory was cut off as Sherlock brought her into his chest. She was shocked by the sudden hug, but quickly realized what was happening when her pocket felt heavier than before. Sherlock pushed away a moment later.

"And one more thing." He began leaning down, but Mallory put her hand up.

"Don't be dramatic Sherlock." She repressed the smile on her lips as much as she could. "This isn't a show on televi-" Mallory cut herself off as a camera flash caught her attention. It was odd seeing the flash when it was fairly bright still. Sherlock noticed it too.

"Wonderful." Mallory's lips pulled into a tight smile. Mycroft had warned her about Sherlock's sudden fame. It was something she was supposed to watch out for. Her face in the papers wouldn't bode well for Mycroft's sake. Her involvement with Sherlock will only create a target big enough to fit on both of their backs. Soulmate's often share things, but this wasn't one that Mallory or Sherlock wanted to share.

"Slap me." Sherlock muttered under his breath quickly. Mallory rose a brow in question. She knew why he had just made such an odd request. It's not that Sherlock turned into a masochist, it's that the person who took the picture would think they had just gotten into a fight. They'd probably assume that the two are not lovers and there would be no story there. However, Mallory saw the flaw that Sherlock didn't, they'd still publish it anyways. She could see it now:

'Woman Picks a Fight with Hero Detective Sherlock Holmes'

"Won't work." Mallory sighs. "I can slap him, however."

Sherlock hummed. "Black hat, shabby shoes, long grey coat, camera in his left pocket." Mallory nodded, taking a quick glance to the man Sherlock had described. "I won't tell."

"Of course you won't." Mallory smiles and nods. Sherlock nods back before turning on his heel and making his way into 221B. Mallory turns and notices the man had begun to walk away. She follows.

\--

"You're late." Mycroft's dull tone fills his office. He sets down the pen he was using and looks up, pausing as his eyes land on his assistant. "New camera?"

"Guy saw me and Sherlock together, took a picture, and I got the picture." She holds up the camera, shaking it slightly.

"Mallory." Mycroft pushes the chair out and stands. He rounds the desk and holds his hand out for the device. She drops it into his palm. "You didn't bother to check, did you?"

"Check?" She rose a brow.

"The memory card." He pops open a compartment, shaking his head. "Papers will be interesting tomorrow..."

Mallory mutters a curse under her breath, shaking her head. "They're snakes, I'm telling you."

"Yes, well, before you go into a lecture about the snakes of the world, will you sit? We do have business to attend to." Mycroft raises his brows. Mallory shrugs, moving to her usual seat. She feels whatever it was that Sherlock slipped into her pocket. Mallory reaches into the fabric and pulls out a rock. Her eyes narrow at it. Sherlock gave her a rock. Mycroft lightly tossed the camera towards the trash can before resuming his position behind his desk.

"I received a visit yesterday." Mycroft begins to explain. Mallory slips the rock back into her pocket and straightens up in her seat. "A woman from the bank. She-"

"Is it the blue eyed one?" Mallory interrupts. Mycroft sighs, nodding slowly. A small smile appears on her lips before she gestures to continue.

"She asked me to keep an eye on this man." He picks up a picture from his desk and flips it for Mallory to see. The picture was from a surveillance camera, black and white and as blurry as can be. Mallory squinted at the outline of a man standing in the bank.

"Mycroft...no offense, but you must be blind." Mallory leans back as Mycroft puts the picture down.

"I'm not finished." He rolls his eyes and grabs another picture off his desk, but doesn't turn it around yet. "While you ran off with Sherlock I found the man and pinpointed his location. This is a better picture I presume?" Mycroft now turns it for Mallory to see. She nods in approval.

The man looked to be in his late 60's due to the amount of grey hair on his head. His skin wrinkled at every possible point and his clothes were one size too big. He hadn't aged very well.

Mycroft set the picture down. "Well, he's been stealing from the bank. I found evidence and now he's in custody." He began gathering papers into a stack, placing the two pictures on top. Mycroft slid the papers across the desk. "I need you to file it."

"You can't do it?" Mallory would've been all for it if not for Moriarty breathing down her neck. She had been ignoring his calls, or lack of. She wouldn't know, she blocked him. Mallory was supposed to give him everything they had on him, and she hadn't even finished reviewing it herself. Her plan had been to weed out all the important information and leave all the nonsense inside. The nonsense is what Moriarty would receive, if she could ever finish.

"No. Now go, I have a call to make." Mycroft turned his attention to his phone, pressing a few buttons. Mallory sat for a moment longer before grabbing the papers and making her way to her office. She had a lot of work to do, but she could manage. Hopefully.


	13. The Price of Fame

"Mycroft, respectfully, shut up." Mallory groaned, burying her face into her hands and shaking her head. Her hair covered her hanging head and became entangled in her fingers. She clenched her fingers, pulling at her hair in the process.

"Mystery woman, later found out to be Mallory Langston, harassed a reporter after having her picture taken with Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It is rumored the two may be lovers- or better yet, soulmates. More on page 7- I think I'll go to page 7..." Mycroft flips the newspaper open that he had been reading from. As he does so, Mallory looks up, her eyes landing on the front page. The picture of her and Sherlock sits big and their names are bolded in the title. There was no denying it was her. Mallory groaned again, leaning back in the seat and patting her hair down. She laced her hands together and set them in her lap, absentmindedly tapping her finger against the back of her palm.

"None of what they wrote is true." Mallory mutters under her breath. Her eyes remain on the ceiling.

"Oh, no. It's all true." Mycroft shuts the paper and folds it back to it's reasonable size. He leans forwards and clasps his hands together in front of him. 

"Sherlock and I are not lovers." Mallory tilts her head down to look at her boss. His lips quirk up in the smallest hint of a smirk. 

"Of course, how could I forget? You two are hardly in a relationship as it is. A title is nothing without action Mallory." Mycroft droned on, standing from his seat and rounding the desk. He leaned against the wooden structure, crossing his arms over his chest. To Mallory, he looked like a father about to give a lecture. "Sherlock doesn't know how to deal with his emotions."

"I've come to that realization after a few minutes in his presence, continue." Mallory slouches down in the chair.

Mycroft sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "If you're waiting on him to act upon his feelings, you'll be waiting a long time."

Mallory looks away from her boss and down at the floor. The floor didn't give her a judging look and, overall, it was pleasant to look at. It made her wonder what type of wood that was. However, her mind wasn't full of types of wood, it was filled with Sherlock at the moment. She knew what she felt for him but it didn't seem real. Every time Mallory thought she truely liked him, she would chop it up to be the tie they had as soulmates. Did she really like him? Or did she like the idea of him? 

"Mallory." Mycroft's voice pulls her attention back to him. "What I am trying to say-"

"-Is nothing. I have a meeting I must attend. Then I have to go talk to Sherlock about the paper." Mallory stands as she speaks. She wasn't keen on having a therapy session with her boss at the moment. Maybe later when she had nothing to talk about. Mallory can hear Mycroft continue to talk even though she's already out the door. She continues to her office and picks up a file with the label 'M' on the front. She wrote it in sharpie to make sure she didn't take the wrong file. True to her intentions, she seperated Moriarty's file.

And now she was on her way to go give it to him. 

Of course, when she arrived to the designated meeting spot, he was there. The only problem was that he was there, reading the newspaper. Mallory almost turned around and walked out. If only he hadn't noticed her.

"Mal! What a nice surprise." Moriarty folded the paper in an unorganized manner and dropped it to the floor. They were, once again, in an empty room. Mallory was convinced he didn't like furniture. "I see you have a surprise for me?"

"What?" She asked as if she didn't know what he was talking about. For a second, she didn't. Mallory followed his eyes to her hand and a look of realization crossed her face. She gave a short nod and held out the file. "Everything we have on you is in there."

Moriarty snatched the file, opening it up carelessly. He began flipping through, not really looking at what was on the pages. When he got to the end of the short stack of papers, he threw the folder behind him. It didn't do much to keep the papers in allowing them to scatter amongst the tiled floor.

"Boring." He commented, walking forward and clapping his hands against Mallory's shoulders. "Nothing interesting- oh! Do you know what I do find interesting?"

"No." She speaks through gritted teeth, trying her best not to frown.

"The paper." He moved his hands down the length of Mallory's arm, stopping at her elbows. "It has so many good stories, don't you think? I especially liked today's cover story..."

"It's a slow news day." Mallory mutters, stepping back, her arms leaving his grip. He clenches his hands into fists and puts them down at his sides. 

"New plan." He says suddenly, turning around. His hands clasp together behind his back. "I don't want you-"

"Thank God." Mallory muttered under her breath.

"-I want Sherlock." Moriarty continued. "Unblock my number. I'll call you. Toodaloo!"

Mallory wasted no time in turning around and walking off. She stepped out onto the busy street and walked with the many people there. As she went on her way, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. Her suspicions were correct, she was being watched. Not by one person in a trenchcoat and hat, but by everyone she passed. They happened to read the paper this morning as well, and boy did they recognize Mallory.

It was then that the whispers started.

"She's dating the detective?"

"Do you see her soulmate mark?"

"She's shorter than I expected."

"Sherlock could do better."

Sometimes Mallory wondered if people knew that when you talk bad about someone in their vicinity, they can hear it. She paid a little too much attention to the comments made, but by the time she had gotten to the door of Sherlock's home, the comments had started to repeat.

Mallory knocked and Mrs. Hudson greeted her at the door. She ushered her inside as quickly as she could to avoid the wandering eyes. Mrs. Hudson continued to go on about how the gossip is the only thing keeping those newspapers alive. She even explained how she tried to keep the papers away from Sherlock, but he had seen it online already. Mallory bid a farewell to Mrs. Hudson after a few minutes and made her way up the steps. As she entered, she spotted Sherlock. He wore a button up shirt and dress pants, his usual, however, in his hand sat the newspaper. Mallory was tired of seeing it.

"So you've heard." She steps forward and gestures to the paper in his hands. Sherlock looks down at the paper and then back at her. He throws it down onto the small table and shrugs, turning around and walking to his bookshelf. His head tilts up as he begins to examine the various titles.

"I know you haven't gone mute." Mallory raises a brow.

"No I haven't." Sherlock responds simply. He brings a hand up and runs his finger down a spine of a book. "However, you look like you're about to."

"About to what?" She wrapped her arms around herself as a hug.

Sherlock spins around on the spot. "I didn't peg you to be a person who cared about what others would think." His eyes narrowed into a glare. 

"I don't." She left Mycroft because she didn't want a therapy session, but it seems like she's going to get it here as well. She wondered if Mycroft called Sherlock about it. "What makes you think that?"

"Well," Sherlock begins. Here we go. "You hug yourself. You've been doing it ever since your attack, most likely a form of comfort for you. I didn't want to say anything at first. You want someone to hug you and tell you it is alright but you don't trust anyone with your deepest emotions, therefore, you hug yourself.

You're standing away from me, you even backed up when I looked at you. You've been avoiding conflict- or talking about it at least. You really don't want to be talking about this right now considering how rapidly you're tapping your finger against your arm- it's a nervous tick.

And yesterday, when we shared an almost kiss, you were hesitant. Your heart rate increased, pupils dilated, and breathing quickened, but you made no moves. I was unsure if that reaction was because you were nervous- because you were- or because you didn't want it to happen. I concluded you didn't want it to happen considering how worked up you are over this newspaper article that no one cares about...how did I do?"

Mallory was silent for a while. Sherlock took that as his answer. She dropped her arms by her sides, suddenly feeling a draft in the room. Mallory stepped forward hoping the feeling would go away, but it followed her.

"Somewhat right." She finally spoke. Her fingers tap against her leg subconsciously. "I realized that I find myself thinking of the incident more than I have to. You did get one thing wrong. I was nervous, but I still wanted it to happen."

Sherlock tilted his chin up, eyes narrowing on Mallory. It was a silent gesture for her to continue. 

"Sherlock. I never thought I'd have these feelings and I don't know how to act." She sighs. 

"I'm aware." Sherlock gives a stiff nod. He shifts his eyes away from her. "I am unfamiliar with these emotions as well. I understand the release of chemicals in the brain when one is attracted to another, but I cannot pinpoint what I am feeling."

"We both know what that feeling is." Mallory glances away as well. It was hard to keep eye contact in an awkward situation such as this. 

"Caring is not an advantage." Sherlock says in a mocking tone. Mallory cracks a smile, knowing exactly who he was mocking. That same man had told her that as well. Sherlock's lips quirked up into a smile as he saw Mallory's smile. He was happy that she was happy.

"Can we agree to retry what occured yesterday when we have both accepted the bond between us?" Mallory asks, the smile still on her lips. Sherlock thinks for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, we can." Sherlock reaches down to the coffee table beside him and grabs a clipboard. He clicks a pen open and begins to write. "Now, I have some questions. Did you feel any pain on your body between the hours of seven to ten?"

Mallory furrows her brow. "I don't recall..."

"Interesting." Sherlock scribbled against the paper and looked up at Mallory. "How about stomach pain?"

"Er...yeah, earlier."

"Interesting." He repeats, scribbling away again and setting down the clipboard. Mallory's confused face is enough to encourage him to explain. "I was conducting an experiment. This man came in and expressed concern for his soulmate because he kept feeling her pain. I called his bluff and this shows I was correct."

"How exactly?" She walks forward and grabs his clipboard, looking over the writing.

"Well, I stubbed my toe, had John punch me, and I made a woman very angry causing her to slap me." He explains, pointing at various parts of the chart he had made. "You don't recall feeling any of it, but you do recall stomach pain. Now, I drank expired milk to see how it would settle and you did feel that one. In conclusion, he was lying. Soulmates can't feel pain on the external parts of your body, but maybe internal- I have to conduct a new hypothesis."

"Okay...well, I have a question for you now." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the rock Sherlock had given her. "What does this mean?"

"You didn't read it?" He questions, grabbing the rock and turning it over in her hand. He tilts her hand up in her line of sight. 

On the rock in black ink it read: Date Tomorrow 7:00 PM.

"Why a rock...?" Mallory looked up at Sherlock. 

"I- no reason." He clears his throat and straightens up. "John, hello. Nice trip to the store?" Mallory looked over her shoulder at John, spotting the bags in his hands. From the looks of it, he bought a new carton of milk.

"Yeah. Hi Mal." John nodded in greeting. Mallory tensed, forcing a smile upon the nickname. 

"Hi. Need help?" She walked forward and grabbed the bags from his hands anyways. Before John could protest she was already in the kitchen, emptying the bags.

"You should help her." Sherlock turned on his heel and walked over to the window, peering out. John sighed, shuffling into the kitchen.

"You don't have to put them away, I got it." John waved Mallory off and she nodded. 

"I have a question John." She lowered her voice, leaning against the table. "Sherlock gave me a rock and-"

"Oh I know what you're talking about." John sighs, folding the, now empty, paper bag. "He was reading articles about how to maintain a healthy relationship and it said a surprise date was a good idea."

"So...the rock?"

"It said to ask in an odd way- don't ask." John shakes his head as he opens the fridge. He pauses, looking at the contents inside. Mallory wasn't sure she wanted to know what exactly was inside the fridge. 

"Well...John." Mallory called. John turned around letting the fridge close by itself. He rose his brows in question. "I actually need to speak with you."

"Why would you need to speak to John?" Sherlock asked from his spot at the window. So he was listening in. 

"Oh- sure, what did you need?" John asks, ignoring Sherlock. Mallory stepped back and grabbed a chair, pulling it out and sitting down. She gestured to the chair across from her and John sat down as well.

"I work for Mycroft- as you know- and he has taken into consideration your complaints about the way he picks you up at random. So, he sent me with information instead." 

"Great, no more ambushing." John leans back in his seat. "Go on, what does he want?"

"Well, it's very simple. A request he has that I fought against, but he threatened to send a bodyguard with me everywhere I go. Mycroft wants you to stop writing your blog."

"What?" John's tone raises a few octaves in his state of shock. Mallory nods with a slight shrug.

"Yup, just for a small amount of time. There are people who have been stalking your website and gathering information to use against Sherlock." Mallory clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. "I talked him down from shutting it down completely."

"Who?" Sherlock's voice once again broke through into the kitchen.

"What he said." John throws his thumb towards the general area Sherlock is in.

"I can't tell you that. It's for your safety." Mallory sighs. "But you can ask Mycroft. He may give you a better answer than me, I'm just the messenger."

"Great- well, when can I talk to him?" 

"Oh." Mallory reaches up and taps her chin, eyes wandering the space above John's head. Her eyes meet John's again with a small smile. "Well he has three meetings today, a date, and he likes to lock himself in his office for a few hours every day. So, you'd have to set up an appointment for...next week?"

"Next week?" John exclaimed.

"A date?" Sherlock spoke over John, rushing into the kitchen. "With who? A woman or man?"

"Well I call it a date, he doesn't. This woman from the bank that he talks about way too much. He goes out of his way to help her. When I bring it up he simply returns the conversation to talking about my inability to express my emotions." Mallory shrugs. Sherlock's shoulders droop as his lips turn down into a frown.

"Oh he has no chance." Sherlock turns on his heel and retreats back to the living room.

"Hold on- why next week?" John asks, bringing the conversation back to the main topic.

"He's busy, but between you and me, I can squeeze you in tomorrow."

"I think I liked it better when he sent a car for me." John mutters, standing from the chair and grabbing the milk he had set down. "And Sherlock I told you to keep your experiments seperate from where we keep food." He complains as he opens the fridge and begins moving objects around inside.

Mallory peered over John's hunched form to examine the contents of the fridge. She merely got a glimpse of something green and furry before her attention was whisked away to Sherlock. He tapped her arm lightly and then strolled away. She got the hint and silently stood, following Sherlock. He stopped just down the hall and before his bedroom door. Sherlock stood with his back against the hall wall while Mallory took her place opposite of him. Her back pressed against another door, presumably a closet, as she relaxed. 

"You flinched when John called you Mal, why?" He narrowed his eyes at her as if it would help get the answer out. Mallory wrapped her arms around herself, shrugging.

"Not a big deal."

A silence overcame the two. Sherlock cleared his throat and gave a stiff nod.

"Right. Well, okay." Sherlock turned and pulled open his bedroom door. He entered and hit it shut just enough for it not to close entirely. It was an invitation for Mallory if she chose to continue their conversation. She could do that, or she could go back to the office and do something she'd probably find boring. Mallory turned and walked into Sherlock's room.


	14. It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Gets Married

"Excuse me?" A tiny voice reached Mallory's ears. She squeezed the lemon in her hand a little too hard, breaking the skin. Sighing, she stuffed it in the plastic bag knowing she had to buy it now. Mallory looked over in the general direction of the voice, spotting a teenage girl. She was almost as tall as Mallory, had brown straight hair, green eyes, and a sheepish look on her face that grew redder every second.

"Yes?" Mallory asked, hoping she was just going to ask if she can move away from the lemons. 

"Are you- uhm..." The girl trailed off, looking down at her feet. Mallory tensed up, hoping she wouldn't say it. She prayed with all her might. "Are you Mallory?"

She said it. Mallory reached up and pushed the hood off her head. So much for the cloak disguise. Mycroft had given her this red cloak as a joke this morning, but she found it useful. Until now. 

Her boss had decided to give her a break from her usual work and, instead, gave her a grocery list. When did Mycroft start cooking? She didn't have the slightest clue.

"Yes." Mallory reluctantly responded. The girl's face lit up as she pulled out her phone.

"Can I get a picture?" She seemed excited about it, unlike Mallory. Mallory was looking for a way out, but instead made eye contact with the mother of this teenage girl. She was already holding up her phone, capturing the moment. 

"I suppose." Mallory responded tightly. She put on a fake smile and the teen took the picture. 

"Thank you!" She exclaimed, slipping her phone into her pocket. "Can you tell Sherlock I said hi?" 

Ever since that article came out, magazines started gossip about it. There was a big debate going on about whether Mallory and Sherlock were soulmates or not. Sixty-eight percent of people said no. Those sixty-eight percent are wrong, but no one needs to know that. 

John tried to assure the two that it would blow over in a week, tops. It's been two weeks and the number of people who stared at Mallory continued to grow. Yesterday, Mallory counted twenty-two people staring at her as she walked to work. The day before that was nineteen. Today was still being counted.

"Sure..." Mallory nodded, turning away. She let out a sigh as she trudged away, gripping the bag of lemons in her hand. The rest of her shopping trip went fairly well. She ended up getting a discount when she checked out. They said it was for all the hard work Sherlock did. I guess they assumed these groceries were for him, but no, they were for his annoying brother.

On her walk back to the office, she felt a presence behind her. Yes, there were a lot of people walking and it could be anyone, but this felt different. She felt their eyes on the back of her head. Their stare felt almost too familiar. As the presence grew closer and closer, Mallory slowed her walking. Once the presence made itself known as it fell into step right beside her, she relaxed. One Sherlock Holmes with his collar up and hat down, walked beside Mallory, who held a bag of groceries.

"Don't make it obvious." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Mallory continued to look forward, trying to ignore the increased amount of stares.

"You're obvious Sherlock. You wear the same thing every day." Mallory whispered loud enough for him to hear and maybe a few passerbys. The two were as obvious as an elephant out of the zoo. The only difference was that they didn't draw as many odd looks. People seemed too busy with their own lives to even look in their direction.

"I don't." He defends, stuffing his hands into his coat pocket and pulling it closer to his body. "I have a problem."

"No need to be ominous." Mallory sighed. 

"This case involves a married man and woman. The woman found him dead, reported it, and got arrested-"

"I'm sorry." Mallory stopped in her tracks. Sherlock stopped as well, turning to face her. A shadow cast over his features, due to the hat, creating an ominous look. "Why couldn't you have just called me?"

"Change of pace." Sherlock shrugs before continuing. "She was arrested, but Gerald let her go. She was found dead minutes later. Why?"

"I don't have time for games-"

"This isn't a game, I'm asking for help." Sherlock interrupted quickly. He pulled one hand out from his pocket and held it out to Mallory. She looked down at the bag in her hand, then at Sherlock's empty one. Mycroft didn't really need these, it could wait a while. She lifted her hand and placed it on top of Sherlock's. Just as she had done so, a series of gasps erupted around them. Oh no.

Sherlock quickly glanced around, noticing the amount of people who had recognized them. Mallory did the same. She guessed this would be way more stares than the previous days combined. 

Did they think Sherlock was going to propose or something? What a ridiculous-

Just as that though crossed her mind, Sherlock dropped to one knee. He reached up and flicked off his hat, allowing it to fall who knows where. Probably towards the hands of a fan. Mallory's eyes widened visibly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. 

"Mallory Langston, will you-" Sherlock began in a tight voice. No one else seemed to notice how tense he was.

"Yes." Mallory interrupted, feigning happiness upon her lips. It's not that she had to fake it, she was just a bit surprised at the moment. Of all things, Sherlock chose this. 

Sherlock opened the box and fumbled out a ring before slipping it onto her finger. He stood to his full height as he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into an embrace. 

"Tell me this isn't the dead woman's ring." Mallory muttered into Sherlock's ear. Her hand gripped his back tightly while her other still held the groceries. How romantic.

"I can't lie." Sherlock muttered before pulling back. He cleared his throat, stopping the applause that they both realized was happening. "Well, we must be off!" 

He grabbed onto Mallory's hand and whisked her away. He only slowed down to a stop in front of Mycroft's desk. His brother sat with his phone in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Well, congratulations." Mycroft said with a tight smile. Mallory shook her head, pulling the ring off and handing it to Sherlock. "When's the wedding?"

"Shut it," Mallory warned. She dropped the bag of groceries over his work. 

"Let him dream Mallory, he likes to imagine romantic scenerios and hope they happen." Sherlock droned, shrugging off his coat. Mallory pushed off her cloak and draped it over one of the chairs. "Besides the point, Mycroft I need to borrow Mallory."

"Well, she isn't mine to loan." Mycroft moved the bag open with the end of his pen, peering inside. He grimaced and pushed it closed. "She has no work today, other than personal gain, she has no reason to be here."

"Great." Sherlock turned toward Mallory, holding out his hand in question.

"Don't try to marry me again." She muttered, raising her hand and placing it in his.

"No promises," He smiles widely, wrapping his fingers around her hand. "I just wanted to use the ring."

"We all know you won't use it ever again." Mycroft adds, looking down at his papers. 

"Why would I use a dead woman's ring?" Sherlock asks with a feigned confusion. 

"Oh brother of mine..."

"Let's go." Mallory sighed, pulling Sherlock out of the room.

As much as Mallory didn't want to admit it, she truely wanted to get married. Not now, but in the future, yes. It was a secret dream of hers, but she knew it was going to be hard to achieve. Besides, Sherlock would have to be onboard for this whole marriage thing to work. Maybe one day.

\---

Mallory knocked gently on Mycroft's open door, stepping inside the office. It was the only lit room at this hour of night. Mycroft texted her during the day, claiming to have something to talk to her about. After the case with Sherlock, which involved faking death and deception, she headed back over here. 

"Mallory. Take a seat." Mycroft gestured towards the empty seat in front of him. He folded his hands on the desk, leaning forward.

She followed his order and sat down, leaning back in the seat. Mallory furrowed her brow. She didn't like how the room felt. It was different, a weird different.

"How was Sherlock today?" Mycroft asked, raising his brows.

"Skip the small talk." Mallory sighed.

"Fine." His mouth dropped into a frown. "I'm telling you this in confidentiality. Okay?"

"Okay."

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He took a deep breath and leaned forward. "Sherlock is going to die."

A silence took over the room. Mallory's face remained unchanged. She wore a neutral expression, but her silence told it all. Mycroft knew how to read her like a book, even when it was closed.

"As in?" She finally spoke.

"As in we are going to fake his death." Mycroft unfolds his hands and leans back in the chair. "You're going to have to act as if it is real. I know you're not good with emotions, that's why I'm telling you this.

We will also need to fake your soulmate mark. As you know, it disappears when one partner dies- Mallory, are you listening?"

"I'm listening." Mallory replied quickly. Her palm covered her hand that held the black spots. 

"Alright. Well, I'm only telling you because you'll be helping him while he's 'dead.'" Mycroft slides a paper across the desk. Mallory grabs it, turning it around to face her. "We need you to act as if he's really dead once it's done. Can you do that?"

"I don't really have a choice." Mallory muttered, looking over the sheet. She really didn't know how to feel about this.


	15. Lights, Camera, Action!

She can't look at him the same. Knowing what she knows, she can't simply talk to him like before. It's not easy knowing someone is going to die, or fake their death that is. 

Even now, as he rambles on about the multiple possibilities of jumping off a roof, she can't concentrate. Her mind is on other topics, or more choices that she has to make. 

Does she stay in London after his death?

Does she cry for weeks on end?

Does she console John?

Does she tell anyone how she's feeling?

Will she be there to watch him fall to his death?

"Mallory." Her name being called pulls her out of these horrendous thoughts and into the real world, where these thoughts are reality. The room felt tense. Inside this compact wooden box was Sherlock, Mycroft, and Mallory. They were here to discuss the plan of Sherlock's death. Mallory wished she was on another planet right now. 

"I'm listening." She looks up from the floor, not meeting either of the brother's eyes, but looking between them instead. 

"You're not." Mycroft sighs. Once again, he could see right through her. 

"I am. Continue." Mallory waves her hand as to get them to keep talking. Her eyes flick over to Mycroft and then Sherlock. Mycroft turned around to a whiteboard they had been writing down names on, but Sherlock stayed staring at Mallory. His narrowed eyes were searching for the truth in her. 

"Right." Sherlock finally spoke, slowly taking his eyes away from Mallory and to his brother. "Moriarty will want to humor me. He'll want more information, anything he can get in the last moments."

"I can give that to him." Mallory spoke up. She got the brother's attention and stepped forward. "I've been in contact with him. He wanted me to dig up his file and after I gave him the useless information, he said he'll be in contact to talk about you, Sherlock."

"He knows then?" Sherlock asked. Mallory subconsciously placed her palm over the black marks and nods. "That changes a few aspects. Where will Mallory be when this happens?"

"With me." Mycroft taps the whiteboard where two M's sit.

"No, she has to be out there." Sherlock reaches over and erases one M and snatched the marker from Mycroft's hand. He uncaps it and rewrites the letter next to the J."She'll be with John."

"No." Mycroft snatches the marker back, erasing the M. 

"Moriarty will be expecting her, he'll use her to get to me." Sherlock reasons. "She has to be there."

"Knowing him, he'll call in a favor and place me there anyways. It's just a matter of waiting on a call from him." Mallory shrugs, stepping between the boys and looking to the whiteboard. 

"You're right." Sherlock muttered, grabbing the marker again. Sherlock Holmes telling someone they're right? Now that is a rare sight. 

Two beeps sounded from both Mallory's and Mycroft's pockets. They looked to each other and then Sherlock, who alternated between the two. 

"Duty calls." Mallory mutters, fishing her phone from her pocket and looking down at the message. She paused, scanning over the words. Was she reading that right? She blinked a couple of times to make sure it wasn't an illusion. 

Mycroft groaned, pulling her from her thoughts. "People are odd specimens. Excuse me while I explain, for the second time, this plan." He pressed a few buttons on his phone as he walked out of the room.

"What does it say?" Sherlock asked once the door shut. Mallory looked over to him. He stood facing the whiteboard, his hands behind his back and eyes scanning over the writing. "It's from Moriarty isn't it?" His eyes shifted to Mallory for a moment. "It is. What did he say?"

"You're alright with this, aren't you?" Mallory clicked her phone shut and placed it on the small ledge attatched to the whiteboard. "Faking your death and leaving everyone you lo- everyone you've called your friend."

"It has to be done." Sherlock muttered as he placed the whiteboard marker down and tapped his chin. His brows were drawn together and eyes narrowed as his lips turned to a slight frown. He looked confused, but he wasn't confused at all. Sherlock was concerned. He hadn't given it a second thought about leaving everyone because it had to be done.

"John will be devastated." Mallory crosses her arms over her chest. "He won't know what to do with himself."

"He will understand."

"Will he?" She asked, stepping closer.

"The message. What does it say?" Sherlock turned his head towards Mallory. His eyes scanned over her. "You're scared. You're doing it again, hugging yourself."

"I'm human." She responds, uncrossing her arms. "I have human reactions."

"What did the message say?" Sherlock turned his attention back to the whiteboard. She was sure he had already memorized it and just wanted something to look at.

Mallory sighed, grabbing her phone and pulling up the message. She read it over again in her head to make sure it hadn't changed. It hadn't.

"Moriarty wants me-" Mallory stopped as she heard the doorknob click. She looked away from her screen and at the door as it opened, revealing Mycroft. He looked annoyed, as usual.

"Ms. Hooper has concerns." Mycroft droned on. "She's not sure if she can act the part."

"She'll do fine." Mallory speaks up, slipping her phone into her pocket. She steps over to Mycroft, placing her hand on his arm gently as to get his attention. He tilts his head down to look at her with raised brows. She lowers her voice to a whisper. "We need to talk."

Mallory doesn't wait for an answer as she walks past him and out of the room into the hallway. Mycroft joins her a moment later. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and sticks it between his lips, but doesn't light it. He nods down the hall. The two walk out of the building and into an alleyway where no one will disturb them. It's then that Mycroft lights the cigar and takes a deep breath before pulling it away. He blows out the smoke and holds the cigar up to Mallory. She shakes her head.

"You know I don't smoke."

"I was just checking, you've been stressed." Mycroft taps the small tube allowing ashes to fall onto the pavement. "Ever since you met Sherlock your emotions have...come out. I suspected as much when I arranged the meeting, but I didn't think you'd be this emotional."

"I am human, as much as I don't act like it, I am." Mallory crosses her arms and leans against the wall behind her. "And these emotions are clouding my judgement."

"Congratulations." Mycroft exhales a puff of smoke. "You've been cured."

"Cured?" Mallory doesn't look up. Her eyes are on her shoes as she nudges a small rock. 

"Of alexithymia. You've had it all your life. Difficulty judging emotions and saying the wrong things at the wrong times." He tossed the cigar to the ground, stepped on it with his shoe. "In the past few days, you've known exactly how you felt, more than you ever have."

"I don't believe I can be cured of such a thing." Mallory shrugs, meeting Mycroft's eyes. "But you're right. I can see clearer, sometimes. Sometimes the clouds come back and block my vision but there is one ray of sunlight peeking through. It helps me know exactly what I feel."

"That ray would be Sherlock."

"Don't be so sappy Mycroft." Mallory scrunches up her nose and looks away. "I needed to tell you something."

"Go on."

"Moriarty texted me. He said," Mallory pulled her phone out and cleared her throat. "Dear Pawn, I am moving you up. Tomorrow, you will pull the trigger. Aim where it counts."

"He wants you to- kick the bucket." Mycroft furrowed his brow. "That wouldn't be right."

"It isn't." Mallory shuts her phone and stuffs it back into her pocket. "I believe he wants me to die if Sherlock doesn't go through with his own death."

"That would make sense." Mycroft hums. "I'll inform Sherlock. Go home and rest, you'll need it."

He smushed the cigar under his shoe once more before walking off. Mallory stood there for a moment, then two moments, then three. She finally moved, finding herself in her home in a mere twenty minutes.

There were multiple plans in place for Sherlock's death, but Mallory had no idea what to do. She knew Sherlock would go through with it and she wouldn't have to do anything, but who knows what will happen with Moriarty on the other end of this.

Her concerns were more with John. The man didn't have the mental stability to deal with this. Even if he did, Sherlock has been a little too urgent to do this. 

Mallory kicked off her shoes as she pulled out her phone. As she reached John's contact, her phone lit up as a call came through. Furrowing her brow, she answered. 

"Why call me at this time?" Mallory answered. She pulled the phone from her ear and pushed the speaker button, carrying it with her towards her room. 

"You know what's happening tomorrow." Sherlock's calm voice echoes in the empty room. 

"We shouldn't discuss it." Mallory sets her phone on the dresser as she opens her drawers. Her intention is to look for pajamas, but her mind wanders. Mycroft was right, she knew exactly what she was feeling at this moment.

"Alright." Sherlock clears his throat. "What would you like to discuss?"

"That isn't how a call works. You called me, you present the subject, not the other way around," Mallory retorts, moving clothes out of the way just to busy her hands with it.

"I presented a subject, but it was denied. Your turn." 

"Fine," She looks down at the phone. "What about tomorrow?"

"How are you feeling?" Sherlock's voice is lowered and has a hint of concern in it.

"How are you feeling?" Mallory repeated. Sherlock's momentary silence told her just how annoyed he was getting.

"Very well...I am functioning." He replied. "Now you."

"I am functioning." Mallory replied. A moment passed before she continued. "Sherlock, you should sleep."

"I believe, in this instance, you should listen to your own advice." 

The two exchanged a goodbye and did what they said they would, they went to bed. 

Mallory woke early that day and made her way to the office. Mycroft greeted her with a quick hello before handing her off to a woman, who wore way too much perfume. The woman grabbed Mallory's hand and began applying heavy amounts of makeup onto the black dots there. She sat and watched as they slowly disappeared from her view. The regret she expected to feel never came.

"You look calm." The woman spoke as she began to pack up her items. She smacked a piece of gum between her lips as she did so. Mallory watched as she carelessly threw the makeup products into the case she had brought. "All things considering. Don't get me wrong, I have no idea what's going to happen, I don't ask questions. Hiding that mark- well, I'm usually hired by people who want to run away."

Mallory was calm. She went to bed feeling scared, but woke up without a care in the world. A switch had been flicked up to a work setting in her mind. Evidently, she was given a task that she had to do. This mission, of sorts, was exactly what it was, a mission.

"I am calm."

"Good." The woman snapped her case shut and pulled it off the table. "I wasn't ready to deal with some blubbering idiot- no offense."

Mallory remained in the room until the woman left. She looked down at her hand. Her skin was no longer stained with the very thing that linked her and Sherlock. 

"That look won't do." Mallory looked up as Mycroft strolled in. "It's not a convincing face." He stopped in front of her, putting his hands in his pockets and teetering on his feet. "This needs to be convincing Mallory. I know you can do it...see? There you go."

Mallory reached up, her fingers swiping away the wetness on her cheeks. Mycroft had a feeling those tears were real, but he knew better than to comment on it. For the first time since she was a child and couldn't help but cry, tears had left her eyes involuntarily. Only one or two droplets, but it happened.

"Yes, well, I'll put on a suitable performance." Mallory brushed her hands against her pants. "Where will you be?"

"Waiting, in a remote location. You, on the other hand, are ordered to stay here. We agreed it would be more realistic if you were here for a few days before seeing Sherlock again." Mycroft glanced away and out the window. It was a nice sunny day. "As to not raise suspicion."

"A few days?"

"A month to be exact." Mycroft met her eyes again. "Maybe less, we'll see."

A month. Sure. She wasn't all too sure she would be able to keep up the act for a month.

"Okay." Mallory gave the smallest hint of a nod. 

"Well, now that that's taken care of. You'll be waiting in a car parked on the side of the road. Once it's done, John will run up and you will pull him back. After consoling him and leading him back to Baker Street, you'll leave on a call to me." Mycroft began to explain. "On that call-"

"I got it." Mallory cleared her throat. "I remember from yesterday."

Mycroft's eyes narrowed at Mallory. He took a moment to answer. "Alright. I will see you later then. Good luck."

\---

Mallory's eyes were on her hand. Her thumb ran over the spot where the black marks had once been. Even though she knows they're still there, under the layers of product, it doesn't put her at ease. 

She had an odd feeling at the bottom of her stomach. It threatened to rise as every second passed. She continued to push it down until it would become no more. However, it always came back.

Her eyes trailed up to look out the window of the car she sat in. The street was in perfect view, and so was the building. Almost as if it was meant to happen at that exact moment, she saw him. Sherlock stood at the edge of the building.

She blinked, hoping he would disappear. Mallory wished, prayed, asked for this to not happen. Something in her fought for this to stop. Maybe she could stop it now. If she ran out there and said something, anything, maybe it would all stop. If she died instead of Sherlock it really would stop. 

Mallory's hands clenched into fists as she saw Sherlock toss his phone. His arms stretched out as he leaned forward. A small breeze could push him off the edge, and it did. Sherlock went tumbling to the ground, faster and faster until the pavement would eventually stop him.

A shakey breath left Mallory's lips as he disappeared from her sight. Her eyes shut tightly as she reminded herself it was all fake. Just smoke and mirrors. One of her hands reached up to the door's handle. She held it tightly as she heard John's scream.

It's not time yet. She had to wait until John saw the body. It had to be believable for this to work. 

She heard her cue, a small tap against the car window by the man on the bike. Mallory pushed open the car door and stepped out. The sounds of sirens and concerned voices hit her immediately. She ignored it all as she set off running straight to John. Her steps grew messy as she stumbled over her own feet and ran straight into John's hunched body. Everyone around him pushed him towards Mallory, as planned.

Mallory grabbed onto John's shoulders, keeping her eyes on his and not on the pile of blood behind him.

"John." Mallory's voice cracked as she spoke. It wasn't intentional. "John- it's okay." 

John's face was indescribable. It held so much pain that she couldn't tell if he was hurt mentally or physically. 

John collapsed in Mallory's arms, clinging tightly to her as he cried out nonsense. She held him up as much as she could, clingling to him just as tight. Her eyes were dry, not how she planned it. Her heart, however, was racing as fast as her thoughts were. 

"John." She called again once he took a deep breath. "Come with me, I'll take you home."

"No-" John spoke with a slight anger to his tone. "I can't go back there." His voice shook. John held Mallory by her shoulders, shaking her. "You don't know- I can't."

"I'm taking you home." Mallory's voice was calm as she spoke. John's eyebrows raised in the slightest. He took note of it. She quickly pulled John along to the car she had been waiting in. She couldn't ruin this because of what she knows. 

\---

True to her word, she took John home. Lestrade came by and asked some questions, to which they both answered. Mrs. Hudson was a mess, hearing the news from John. They both cried for what seemed like hours. Mallory stood by, bringing comfort to the two. 

At one point, John grabbed her hand to examine her soulmate mark, only to find it gone. That's the moment Mallory put her acting into play as she looked at it as if she was shocked it was gone. Her efforts didn't go unnoticed as Mrs. Hudson explained about losing hers. 

After an hour, Mallory led John upstairs and Mrs. Hudson went to bed. John sat in his chair, staring forward at Sherlock's empty one. Mallory stood, her eyes on it as well. A faint indent could be seen on the cushion.

"He was an idiot." John's voice broke the silence. Mallory's eyes shifted over to John. His hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that his fingertips had turned white. "An idiot." He repeats.

"He was-" Mallory began, but stopped. Her breath hitched as she felt a sudden pain in her chest. She stepped back, her hand moving to her throat as her breathing picked up. She felt as if her throat was closing in on itself, as if the life was being choked out of her by some invisible force. Mallory fell to her knees, her hand moving over her heart. She could practically hear her racing heartbeat as it grew louder and louder. 

"Mallory?" John's concerned shout made little noise over her rapid breaths. "Mallory, are you okay?" He knelt down in front of her, his hand on her back.

"No-" She breathed out, eyes wide. "I don't- I don't know what's happening to me."

"You're having a panic attack." John's hand ran down her back and up again. The motion was soothing. A panic attack, but why?

Mallory took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Her breathing had slowed to a normal rate, but this pain in her chest hadn't stopped. 

"It hurts." Her hand pressed against her chest as she looked up at John. His eyes were red with tears and cheeks flushed with anger. However, all his pain was pushed away and repleaced with concern.

"You're grieving." He offers a pained smile. "You were his soulmate, it's alright to show your pain."

"I know it's alright." She breathed out, pushing herself to stand. At that moment, her phone rings. "I have to go, it's Mycroft."

Without another word, Mallory turns on her heel and walks out of the building and onto the street. Her hand digs into her pocket as she yanks out her phone and presses it against her ear.

"We-" Mycroft begins.

"I need to see him." Mallory demands, cutting Mycroft off. A pause follows.

"No." He replies.

"Yes, I need to see him." She speaks as she rushes down the street, deadset on making it home. 

"How did it go?" He asks instead.

"Mycroft I need to see him." Mallory repeats, picking up her pace. She's almost home. 

Mycroft sighs. "Where are you?"

"Almost home." She's practically jogging now. 

"I can't promise-"

"Mycroft." She warns.

"Goodbye." Mycroft sighs again. Before she can say anything, he hangs up. A curse leaves her lips as she breaks into a run. She's at her front door in minutes.

Mallory rushes inside and to the closest sink. The water is on and she's scrubbing away at her hand. She continues to scrub even when her skin turns red and raw. 

The slight sting in her hand is forgotten as she shuts off the water and examines it. There they are, those little black dots. A sigh of relief leaves her lips as she drops her hand with a small smile.

"I'm still alive." Mallory freezes as she hears his voice. She whips around spotting Sherlock on her couch, a finished puzzle on the coffee table. 

"Mycroft-"

"Wrong brother." Sherlock stands. "He left me here and said I have a few hours until the plane takes off."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Mallory asks with a furrowed brow.

"I lied. That plane left hours ago, but he did leave me here. He wanted to come get you himself, but I decided to take his place. We'll leave in the morning so, surprise." Sherlock shrugs.

Mallory shakes her head. She rushes forward, her hands grabbing onto Sherlock's shoulders as she pushes herself up and connects her lips with his. Sherlock's hand grabs onto her waist as the other cradles the back of her head. Their lips move against one another as they seek to be closer than they already are.

Sherlock is the first to pull away, but just enough to look her in the eyes. She stared right back into his, cherishing this moment.

She realized at that moment that it only took a fake death to let her know she liked him. Really liked him.


	16. To Be Apart

Mallory's eyes darted over her soulmate's face through the darkness of the room. She wanted to memorize it. He did the same, though Mallory was already fixed in his mind. He had a special place for her. All the memories they shared together were stored in that ignorant little head of his.

"Sherlock." Mallory spoke softly, her hand coming up to brush the hair away from his eyes. Her fingertips left a tingling trail along his skin. Despite their closeness and the blankets over their bodies, she was still cold. Sherlock's hand grabbed hers, bringing it down between them on the soft mattress. The two hadn't said a word since their lip locking adventure, they simply climbed into Mallory's bed and laid there.

"I have to tell you something." She continued. Her fingers wrapped around his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"I don't think you do." Sherlock spoke in a low, rumbling voice. His normally deep tone was even deeper when he spoke at such a low volume. Mallory furrowed her brow as he shut his eyes. "You're in shock. I know you've come to a realization with your feelings, but, you shouldn't say what you were going to say."

"Why?" Mallory breathed out, concern now lacing her tone. She knew the exact emotion she was feeling and she wanted him to know exactly how she felt. Why shouldn't she be able to express these emotions in words?

"It's not time." He muttered, shifting to lay on his back. Sherlock's hand slipped out of Mallory's and rested on his rising chest. "Your phone is going to ring."

Ah, the phone. On cue, it began ringing. Mallory pushed the covers off of her body as she tossed her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Since you're dying to know- I lied about Mycroft leaving me here. I gave him thirty minutes- at least- before he realized that I wasn't in that airplane bathroom. Since I left my phone, he would resort to calling you. Therefore-"

"Hello?" Mallory cut Sherlock's rant short as she answered the call.

"Open the door." Mycroft's tense voice comes through the line. 

"Be specific." Mallory glanced towards the front door. It was visible through her open bedroom door. "I thought you were on a plane."

"I was. Front door." Mycroft mutters. He sounded as if he was about to start yelling at any moment. A ticking time bomb.

"Why are you here?"

"You know why."

"I don't think I do." Mallory glances over her shoulder at Sherlock. His eyes are still closed and hands clasped together on his chest. 

"You're lying, I know your lying voice." 

"Mycroft, you and me both know that I don't have a lying voice." Mallory's lips pulled up into a slight smile.

"Open the door or I break it down." Mycroft hung up abruptly.

"He threatened to break it down didn't he?" Sherlock spoke up. Mallory turned to him, setting her phone down on the bed. "He won't, he doesn't want to make a commotion."

"I know." She guessed as much. "I suppose this means you must go?"

"Yes." Sherlock sat up, looking over at Mallory. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and strode over to her, stopping just in front of her. "Goodbye then, won't want him to throw a fit."

Mallory hummed in response. Sherlock's hand came up to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her skin lightly. His hand tilted her head up as he ducked down. His lips brushed against hers momentarily as if asking for permission. She leaned forward, answering his silent question.

The two parted as a loud bang came from the front door.

"There goes the fit." Sherlock mutters, stepping back from Mallory and turning on his heel. He stops at the front door, turning halfway to look at Mallory. "Till next time."

"Till next time." Mallory repeated. She didn't want to say goodbye. Goodbye meant the end, and this wouldn't be it.

That was the last time she would see her soulmate in a long time. Mycroft only contacted her for necessary information. He was still very frustrated at the two of them. Sherlock's "idiotic and disruptive" actions could have compromised the whole plan, but it didn't. Mallory didn't tell Mycroft, but she really needed it.

After analyzing the situation and replaying the moments in her head, Mallory was surprised at herself. She managed to play the part, so much so, that she convinced herself and Sherlock. It was very...odd. 

Mallory's days were spent in Mycroft's office. She took over his position in his absence. When she was done for the day, she'd visit Mrs. Hudson. The woman hadn't touched Sherlock's stuff, she didn't even bother trying to give it away. Mrs. Hudson and Mallory would chat, have dinner together, and then Mallory would part ways. 

John, on the other hand, didn't bother speaking to either of them- other than the time he asked Mrs. Hudson to gather his things. Mallory tried to find where he was living now, but he hid well. She didn't have time to focus on John if he didn't want to be found. 

Two years passed on like this. Mycroft, with his grudge still going strong, never allowed Mallory to join the two. That was until she got the call. 

Sherlock was coming back.

So, here Mallory was, walking down a long hallway towards a room at the end. She wasn't really too nervous about seeing him again. The way she clenched his coat in her hands said otherwise.

Mallory paused at the door, reaching out to the handle. She could hear his voice from behind the glass. She suppressed a smile as she opened the door. Sherlock spun around, looking at Mallory. His lips turned up into a small smile. 

"Mallory." Mycroft greeted. "I would say it's nice to see you, but it really isn't."

"Still angry I see." Mallory glanced past Sherlock to his brother. 

"He holds a grudge." Sherlock responded, looking over his shoulder. "A moment?"

Mycroft looked between the two, sighing. "I regret my actions leading to the two of you meeting." He walks forward. Mallory catches him by his arm before he leaves. The two meet each other's eyes and with a silent exchange of words, Mycroft nods and trudges away. The door shuts leaving the two alone.

"Thank you." Sherlock says as he grabs his coat from her hands. He pulls it on and pops the collar up. Mallory shakes her head and reaches up to flatten the fabric, but he catches her wrist before she can do so. "It's been a while."

Sherlock brings her arm down to her side, his hand slips from her wrist to her hand. Mallory nods in agreement to his statement. "A long while."

"How is John?"

"I'm not too sure." Mallory responds reluctantly.

"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

"Stable." She shrugs.

"Gregory?" He then asks to which Mallory stares at him.

"I suppose that's close enough." She furrows her brow. "I don't know."

"And you?" Sherlock asks. Mallory tilts her head up as she takes a deep breath. "No, no, don't answer that. Judging by your pulse increasing I would say that this is a sensitive subject for you." Mallory looks down at her's and Sherlock's hand noticing his fingers were placed on the inside of her wrist. She pulls her hand back, narrowing her eyes at him. He begins pacing as he speaks. "And by the way you did that I suspect you're angry with me now. Nevertheless, you lost contact with John, suggesting I'm the link between the two of you. You were never close to Lestrade and used him for work purposes, no surprise there. Mrs. Hudson, on the other hand, seems to be a surrogate to you. 

I know a little of your past but not your family. Mrs. Hudson may be like a grandmother to you- no, more of a motherly figure. You probably went back to Baker Street to comfort her and stayed a few nights. Staying the night would have comforted you rather than her- did you sleep in my bed? Yes, of course you did, you missed me-"

"Sherlock." Mallory cut him off. He stopped pacing and turned to face her. "Get to the point."

"The point." He repeated slowly. Sherlock straightened up, clearing his throat. "Well, from the time apart I found myself thinking...of what you were doing alone in London. Mycroft never spoke a word of you and when I asked he'd begin to complain about that idiotic grudge he has. I don't see-"

"Sherlock." Mallory cut him off once again. He nodded and took a step closer to her.

"Yes, well, I yearned to see you once again." Sherlock nods to confirm his statement.

"I believe the feeling I had was similar to yours." Mallory responded with a nod herself.

"Then it's settled." He stuffed his hands into the coat pocket. "I suggest we not keep John waiting."

Mallory nodded again, but they didn't make a move to leave the room. Instead they shared a look that asked for permission. Sherlock took action first. He stepped forward and ducked his head down. A chaste kiss was placed on Mallory's cheek. He straightened up and wandered past her, out the door. Mallory took a moment to replay that in her mind before following.

They arrived back in London later than expected. Mallory followed Sherlock to meet Mrs. Hudson again, and after a great scare, they were off to meet John. Mallory waited on the sidelines for this one. That was until John and Sherlock fell to the floor.

Mallory cringed as the two... fought. She wasn't sure it was fighting if all they were doing was rolling around on the floor. At this moment she knew what she felt, embarrassment.

As the staff began to pull the two apart, a small tap on Mallory's arm brought her attention away from the scene. 

"Hi." A woman breathed out, holding her hand up with a smile. "My name is Mary. I saw you walk in with....er- Sherlock and, well, call it a sixth sense, but I can tell you two are soulmates." 

Mallory's hands remained in the pockets of her coat, her eyes glued to the woman. "We aren't." 

"Oh- sorry, you don't know me!" Mary dropped her hand when she realized Mallory wasn't going to shake it. She didn't seem too embarrassed about it. "I'm John's girlfriend, soulmate, and soon to be fiancée. Between you and me, he isn't very good at secrets."

"Oh." Is all that Mallory said. Mary still smiled despite the odd reaction.

"You and Sherlock are soulmates, right?" She asked. Mallory gave the smallest hint of a nod that she hoped Mary wouldn't see. She still had a hard time telling people they were soulmates. It had been a secret until the media blew it up and Sherlock's fake proposal didn't help. After his 'death,' articles came out about Mallory, the grieving widow. She was neither grieving, nor a widow. 

"Excuse me." A man wearing a tux stood a few feet away from the girls. He looked nervous by the way he stood and continuously looked away. "Your husbands have been escorted out..."

"We'll talk to them." Mary responded with that smile of hers and grabbed Mallory's hand. She had no time to protest as she was pulled along until they reached the street. John was pacing and Sherlock was dusting himself off.

Mary rushed over to John, her hands cupping his cheeks as she spoke to him softly. Mallory, on the other hand, stuffed her hands further into her pockets and stepped beside Sherlock. The two watched the couple before them.

"What's her name?" Sherlock asked, keeping his voice low enough for only Mallory to hear.

"Mary, John's soulmate. He's going to ask for her hand in marriage." Mallory responded, pulling her coat tighter around her. "She is very...cheery."

Sherlock hummed, teetering on his feet. "She's good for him." 

"She is his soulmate." Mallory responds, looking over at Sherlock. He pauses, glancing down at Mallory. His eyes scanned her form for a moment before turning away. 

"She is indeed." He sighs before clearing his throat. "I suggest we take this inside." Sherlock speaks louder, getting the attention of the couple. Mary looks at Sherlock and then to John. 

"Yeah, fine. Whatever you say goes right?" John exclaimed, turning on his heel and stalking down the street. Mary hesitated, looking to Mallory and letting out a forced laugh before catching up with John. 

Sherlock nudged Mallory's arm as he began walking as well. She caught up, falling into pace beside him.

"I suggest you chose your words carefully." Mallory comments.

"He'll be fine." Sherlock shrugs.

"He's beyond angry." She sighs. "He's mad because you left him alone in this world. John thought you were dead. It's been two years, Sherlock. I never spoke to John in those two years because he ran and hid himself away. He's mad at you for not giving him a sign."

"I know why he's mad." Sherlock straightens up, standing a little taller than before. "You don't need to tell me unless your own feelings are mixing with the one's you've portrayed as John's. I know when people are mad Mallory- and yes, I know you are too. However, the reason for your anger eludes me, John I understand."

Mallory remains silent as her eyes fall to the floor. She knew she felt strange around Sherlock, but she never would've pinpointed the emotion as anger. It made sense to her. Sherlock did leave her too, but she knew about his death. It still didn't make it easy. 

Molly Hooper, who also knew about the secret, came to comfort Mallory at the office one day. Molly had learned they were soulmates and came back day after day for a week straight. Mallory would never tell Sherlock, but the second day Molly came around, Mallory broke down. She made Molly promise to never tell anyone.

When Mallory finally looked up, she realized they were in a small shop. Sherlock went up to the counter and got a small bag of something cold to hold against his face. John didn't sit down despite Mary's efforts to pull him into the chair. Mallory stood with John as Sherlock situated himself in a chair.

"Did you know?" John's tone caught Mallory off guard. She looked over to him and noticed that the question was for her. "Did you know about faking his death?"

She didn't have the heart to tell him. She didn't have the heart to lie to him either. "Yes. The only reason I knew was because Moriarty wanted me dead as well. Mycroft had told me about the plan a few days prior, he told me it was a job I had to do." Her reasoning had flown over John's head as all he heard was the confirming answer.

"Great!" John threw his arms up in annoyance. "Everyone knew but me, hm?"

"Not everyone." Sherlock spoke up, a smug smile on his lips. Mallory and Mary both cringed as John grabbed Sherlock and headbutted him.

Once again, they had been kicked out. Mallory held a wad of tissues as Sherlock tilted his head back, holding one of the tissues to his nose. He reached blindly for another to which Mallory provided.

John and Mary were off after a few wise words. It left Mallory and Sherlock alone on the sidewalk. Sherlock sniffed, tilting his head down as the bleeding had stopped.

"It's not broken." Mallory commented, gesturing to his nose. "I suppose at this point I'm supposed to tell you that he'll come around and you have nothing to worry about, but I don't want to lie."

"No- he will come around. Let's go." Sherlock turned on his heel, begining to walk down the street. He stopped when he realized that Mallory wasn't following. She hadn't moved from her spot at all. He turned around fully, tilting his head in question. "I would ask if you're angry with me, but it's evident you are."

"I suppose I am." Mallory pushes her hands into her pockets. "But I'm glad you're back."

"I see." He nods. "You're angry because it took so long."

"I suppose." Mallory answers once again. "I think, for tonight, we part ways here." Despite her words, she walked towards Sherlock. "Because if we don't-" She pauses before him. "-I fear I may forgive you too easily."

"I understand." He nods again. "Take your time Mallory."

They shared a thousand words between their gaze before parting ways. To be apart once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized there's a lot of names that begin with 'M' in this show and I just added one more-


	17. M&M

"Oh, James!" The woman threw her arms up and over the man before her. His hands rested on her waist before he hoisted her up and spun the woman around. She laughed, her face full of glee.

"Oh, Maria! I'll never leave you again." The man exclaimed, setting her down and pulling her close. The two stared into each other's eyes lovingly, as if nothing else mattered in the world. They leaned closer, and closer, and-

"You actually like watching this?" Mallory's voice broke through the cheerful music. She reached down, grabbing a handful of popcorn and bringing it up to her mouth.

"Feet. Down." Mycroft demanded, avoiding the question that was asked. Mallory narrowed her eyes, dropping her feet from the table to the floor. His eyes never left the screen until the credits began to roll. Mallory munched away at the buttery treat, leaning back into the cushion of the chair. "You chose this movie, don't complain."

Since Sherlock's return, Mallory hasn't spoken to him much. Mycroft had went back to work and he kept her pretty busy. Mostly because she requested it. She had a night to think of all the things Sherlock has said and done, and she concluded she did need this time from him. In these moments, Sherlock needed to focus his time and effort on mending his friendship with John.

Mycroft didn't question Mallory's urgency to work, but after a chat with his brother, he didn't need to question it. Mycroft's decision was to invite her to stay at his house for as long as she'd like. She took him up on his offer, hence her presence in his movie room.

"Well I didn't think it'd be so cheesey." Mallory shrugs, kicking her feet up onto the table again. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back into the seat. "I thought you would've found your soulmate by now...you know you could just get that psychic lady to find her for- ow!"

Mycroft smacked Mallory's leg, pushing them off the table as he stood. He hides his smirk as he turns on his heel and fiddles with the remote. 

"If I wanted a soulmate to slow me down, I would've contacted her already." He muses, turning off the television. Mallory straightens up, grabbing onto the arm rests for support as she leans forward.

"Wait- you know who it is?" She pushed herself to stand as Mycroft turned back around, his stoic expression back once again.

"Yes... obviously."

"What do you mean- yes, obviously?" Mallory spoke, mocking Mycroft's voice. Her Mycroft impression had gotten better over the years. He banned her from doing it around people, however, that didn't stop her.

"I mean what I said, and I thought I told you to stop impersonating me." He reaches down and grabs the bowl of popcorn.

"You did-"

"Then why didn't you listen?"

"I did listen, I just chose to ignore it." Mallory retorts, crossing her arms. "Now, stop dodging questions."

"I'm not dodging questions, Mallory. I'm reflecting them. Let's talk about Sherlock." His smirk returned, but he didn't hide it this time. Mallory narrowed her eyes at the man before her. "Oh...hit a nerve did it?"

"No." Mallory tensed up, clearly bothered by his words. To anyone else, she'd probably convince them with her statement, but Mycroft picked up on the subtle clues. "I am...angry with him."

"Angry? You've finally got a hold on your emotions, great improvement." Mycroft says rather sarcastically. He turns on his heel and begins walking away. Mallory follows, but doesn't reply until they enter the kitchen.

"I don't expect you to understand."

"I don't think you understand yourself." He retorts as he places the dirty dishes into the sink. Contrary to what everyone assumed, Mycroft didn't have people around the house to do the cooking or cleaning. He is a very secluded man, and one who has a hard time trusting as well. 

"I do." She answers. Her voice isn't so sure. Mycroft shrugs as he turns to face her fully. If she was anyone else she wouldn't have seen the look of concern he gave. However, that look was wiped away in a split second.

"We will be busy tomorrow. Do get some sleep." Mycroft brushed past the woman and made his way towards a staircase. He wavered for a second, but proceeded up. Mallory knew he was concerned. 

His mention of sleep did bring the realization that she was, in fact, tired. Mallory yawned, turning away from the kitchen, pausing. On the counter before her, just by the kitchen's open walkway, sat her phone. She stared at it for a moment, praying the screen wouldn't light up. Part of her wished it did.

With a sigh, she shuffled over to the device and picked it up. Her eyes widened as she saw the messages. All from Sherlock.

The messages stated various things he had done that day. One message even spoke of John; however, Mallory focused on the one at the bottom. It had two words 'call' and 'me.'

So she did.

Mallory pressed the phone against her ear as it began ringing. She knew he'd be awake, he was always awake. One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings-

"You got my message." Sherlock's voice replaces the previous noise.

"You waited for four rings to pick up the phone. I know you're not doing anything that would have caused you to almost miss the call; therefore, you want to make it seem as if you don't care." Mallory began as soon as Sherlock stopped speaking. The line went silent for a moment. She could almost see his lips turning up into a smile.

"Well, your hypothesis may be correct, but there are flaws. A normal person wouldn't know how long each ring is, and even if they did, counting would never ensure their designated amount of rings. Furthermore, who is to say that four rings translates to not caring, surely not answering and calling back would be more suitable." Sherlock retorts.

"You forget. You're not normal Sherlock, and I know you. It's fine to act childish- now what did you need me for?" Mallory adds her question quickly, not wanting Sherlock to throw a tantrum and hang up.

"I would like to apologize." He says with a hint of reluctance. "For hurting you. I am sorry."

Mallory grew silent. She took a deep breath, switching the phone from one ear to the other. 

"Sherlock, I can't forgive you yet." She mutters under her breath. "I need time."

"Alright."

"I am aware this isn't your fault and it had to be done, I'm just trying to process seeing you every day."

"It's my face isn't it." Sherlock said abruptly. Mallory couldn't help the snort that came out of her nose. Her hand shot up to clasp over her mouth in shock. 

"I'm sorry-" She apologized, letting her hand fall back to her side, but the smile on her lips stayed. "No Sherlock, it isn't your face...just go to bed, I'll text you tomorrow."

"Okay..." Sherlock spoke slowly, hesitation in his voice. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Mallory hung up the phone at the departing words and made her way to her temporary room. She had trouble falling asleep that night, whether it was from her wandering thoughts or not being tired.

Somehow she finally found sleep and she was thankful for it when she realized what Mycroft had planned for the day. In the early hours of the morning she woke to Mycroft poking her arm repeatedly. After she was conscious, he said: "Get changed, we'll be going to the bank."

The bank. The same place a blue eyed woman worked. Mallory found it suspicious to say the least, but did as he said.

On the car ride there, Mycroft purposely took a seperate car. He made it very obvious he was avoiding confrontation. Either way, Mallory would figure out what she wanted to know.

"Mycroft." Mallory greets as she steps out of the car that had dropped her off at the bank. Her boss stands with his hands in his pockets, waiting at the steps of the building. 

"Mallory, wipe that look off your face." Mycroft mutters as he turns on his heel and starts up the stairs. She simply puts on a smile and follows close behind. A man that stood at the entrance nodded to Mycroft and Mallory before opening up the door.

The bank was large to say the least. It had two stories, glass chandeliers, and giant white pillars lining the walls. The inside looked straight out of a movie.

Mycroft and Mallory strode inside, side by side. The various workers glanced over at the two, gasps and whispers filling the room. Mycroft wasn't too much in the spotlight until the whole Sherlock thing happened. Mallory had been talked about a little more because of the scandals that were published about her and Sherlock. Either way, the two had gained a bit of fame.

"You think she switched brothers?" One woman asked in a harsh whisper. Mallory tensed as she heard it, glancing to Mycroft who shook his head.

"Workplace gossip." He muttered, stopping at the front desk. Mallory stopped beside him. The woman at the desk looked up with wide eyes.

"Mr. Holmes?" She asked hesitantly, glancing from her computer screen to the two. Mycroft nodded. "O-okay Ms. Harley will see you...in room 26."

Mycroft nodded again and turned on his heel, walking in the direction of the room. Mallory quickly followed, glad to be away from the larger crowd of workers.

"Of course you know exactly where it is." Mallory teases with a small smile. Mycroft makes no sign of acknowledgement as he makes a sharp right turn and knocks lightly before walking inside. Mallory's smile leaves her face before she follows him in.

"Good morning!" Ms. Harley's chipper voice broke through the silence. She wore a wide smile as she stood and offered her hand out. Mallory stepped forward and shook her hand. "Oh! You got a good grip there. You can call me Lily by the way." 

Mallory nodded, not knowing what to say, and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. The woman sat down, not bothering to shake Mycroft's hand. It was evident the two were already friends. Mycroft sat down as well, resting his hands in his lap.

"Okay! So- oh." She pauses, shuffling the papers around on her desk. "Sorry...I must've left the papers in my other office." The woman looks up with a sheepish smile. Mycroft mirrors it much to Mallory's surprise.

"Don't worry about it." He brushes it off. Mycroft not getting at least a little annoyed at unprofessional people? Mallory blinked, wondering if she'd stepped into an alternate dimension. "We have time."

"Thank you." Lily breathes out and gets up, rushing out of the room. Once the door shuts, Mallory had it figured out.

"She's your soulmate." Mallory didn't bother asking because she already knew the answer. Mycroft didn't meet her accusing eyes and instead looked down at his watch.

"It took you a minute. I thought you would've been smarter than that." He hums, glancing at Mallory momentarily.

"And she doesn't know." Mallory continues.

"Correct." He confirms.

"And how do you know?" She asks, shifting in the seat.

"You're smart. Figure it out." He mutters just as the door opens again. Lily walks in with a file in her hands, she sets it on her desk and turns towards Mallory. 

"I'm so sorry I just realized I never got your name." Lily explains, placing a hand on Mallory's shoulder. Bingo.

"It's alright. Mycroft rarely introduces me anyways, my name is Mallory." She smiles. Lily's hand slips from her shoulder and gives her forearm a squeeze.

"Oh of course, Mycroft is a bit strict."

Speak of the devil, Mycroft cleared his throat.

"Oops!" Lily quickly sits back behind her desk and opens a file. She pulls out a picture and turns it around to face the two. Her voice lowers as she speaks more professionally. "This man is named David Blake. He came here from America with the intent of taking a job here. I had an interview with him yesterday and he seemed odd.

When he exited my office I walked him out, purposely taking him through the metal detector and low and behold, he had a gun. His intentions were to kill me." Lily dropped the picture and shrugged.

"Interesting." Mycroft muttered, grabbing the picture for himself. He hummed and nodded. "And I assume you're delivering him to me."

"Right-o!" Lily smiled brightly. "Pretty sure he's already in your little interrogation room, just wanted to let you know! But anyways, onto the real business."

Mycroft's foot slid to the side, bumping into Mallory's. She jumped slightly, looking over at him with a questioning look. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to Lily. That look was his 'you should be taking notes' face.

Mallory huffed as she grabbed a notebook she carried in her jacket. There was a convenient pocket inside for her little book and a pen. She flipped it open and clicked the pen, pressing it against the paper.

"So, since Sherlock is back," Lily began. Mallory looked up at her soulmate's name. Of course Mycroft told her, why wouldn't he? Mallory looked back down, pushing her feelings away. This was work, she had to pay attention. "I assume you want to add in some precautions?"

"Yes, I emailed you a list." Mycroft nodded. The thing is, this was a bank, but Lily wasn't just the woman in charge here, she also worked for Mycroft with her side company. Lily specialized in secret service type protection. In other words, if Mycroft needed to watch over someone, he'd contact Lily and she'd arrange it all. 

"I got it." She nodded and wrote down a few numbers on a sticky note. "I know Sherlock is very observant so I've decided to keep it on the down low, he'll never know that they're watching."

"Great." Mycroft smooths down his shirt as he stands. Mallory follows his lead. Lily rips off the sticky note and hands it towards Mallory. She gives a small thanks before putting it inside her notebook. "Well, I shall see you later then."

"Yup!" Lily stands and smiles. "Have a good day!" A moment passes before she perks up and reaches out to Mallory's arm. "Oh and Mallory? I'm terribly sorry for what you've gone through. I couldn't imagine losing my soulmate- even if it was just for show- and all those news articles-"

"It's quite alright." Mallory interrupts, slipping her arm out of her grip. "If you don't mind me asking, have you met your soulmate yet?"

"Me?" Lily asks, a light blush dusting over her cheeks. "Oh! No, but I'm hopeful. My job keeps me so busy I only see the same five people." She brushes her hair over her shoulder and pulls the collar of her shirt down to reveal her neck and shoulder. Upon her skin sits a black smudge big enough for a palm. "Kind of a weird spot, don't you think?"

"Oh don't worry, Mycroft's is in a weirder spot." Mallory smiles. Lily laughs, smiling widely.

"You two must be such good friends! Oh! You guys can call yourselves M&M! Like the candy."

"Please hurry." Mycroft mutters, obviously annoyed.

The two say their goodbyes and Mallory leaves with Mycroft. As soon as they enter the car waiting for them, Mallory speaks up.

"The neck, hm? Didn't know you were capable of touching another human." Mallory hums.

"Don't be ridiculous." Mycroft scoffs, looking out the window as the car pulls away. "I've never touched her."

"Obviously, or else she would've known. Your mark is on your shoulder then? She seems to touch shoulders when she talks." Mallory continues.

"Mind your business." Mycroft mutters. Mallory shrugs, looking down at the book in her lap. She unclips the pen from the cover and twists it until the engraving is shown. A sudden urge to call him arose. She honestly didn't know what to do.


	18. The Question No One Asked

Mallory's eyes remained out the window. She counted as they passed by, yet another, tree. After a long day of going from place to place for meetings, visits, or to simply check on someone, there was one more stop. Mycroft had taken over the role of driving, leaving the two of them alone. No employees, just Mycroft and Mallory. M&M back again.

"Have you told them?" Mallory broke the silence. It was neither comfortable, or uncomfortable. It was simply silence. Mallory couldn't tell either way.

"No." Mycroft mutters. "They don't need to know. Trust me."

"Hm. What if they ask?" Mallory's eyes left the trees, stopping her count at 100, as she looked over to Mycroft. His eyes were glued to the road in front of him.

"They won't ask."

"They will. They've asked before." She reminds with a hum. Mycroft remained silent as he parked right in front of a small house. His parents house, to be more specific.

Whenever Mycroft had been burdened with visiting them, he always took Mallory. Mrs. Holmes would repeatedly ask if they were soulmates, to which Mycroft would groan and shuffle away to the kitchen. Sometimes, to annoy him, she'd play along with his mother.

"Do not instigate her." Mycroft warns, sparing her a quick glance.

"I would never do such a thing." Mallory says as Mycroft slips out of the car. She reaches towards the door handle, but it slips out of her fingers as Mycroft pulls it open from the outside. He blocks the way out and ducks his head down to speak directly to her.

"I am serious. They'll throw a fit if they know you're Sherlock's soulmate."

"Did I hear that right?" A small voice came from behind Mycroft. He visibly tensed, his grip on the door tightening. "Mycroft! How dare you hide this-"

"Mother!" Mycroft straightened up, turning around to face the woman. "Calm down. Honestly you're making a big deal out of nothing."

Mallory took this opportunity to slip out of the car and take her place beside Mycroft. "Good afternoon Mrs. Holmes."

"Mallory! I told you to stop being so formal." The woman shuffled forward and wrapped her arms around Mallory. Mallory tilted her head towards Mycroft, a knowing smirk on her lips. He rolled his eyes with a scoff. "Oh Mycroft, shush. You're just mad that Mallory isn't your soulmate!"

"I'd rather die." Mycroft muttered under his breath, shutting the car door. 

"Mycroft!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed, rushing over and smacking his arm lightly. She suddenly gasped, quickly turning around and rushing inside the house as she spoke about some pie.

"I'm a delight to be around." Mallory said, poking Mycroft's arm. She looked towards the house, spotting the curtain fluttering shut. A sense of realization hit her as she straightened up. "He isn't..."

"Hm...seems he is." Mycroft hums, nodding his head towards the front door. Out stepped the detective himself, Sherlock Holmes. He stepped down the stairs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He paused just before exiting the gate. Sherlock's eyes stayed on Mallory for a moment before turning to Mycroft.

"Hello brother." He offers an obvious fake smile. "Convenient to see you here."

"Conveniences don't happen with you, Sherlock." Mycroft points out with a tilt of his chin upward. He huffs as he pushes past his brother and makes his way into the house. Mallory lets out a sigh as she makes a move to follow, but Sherlock sticks his arm out to stop her. She looks up at him.

"Yes?" She asked when he didn't speak.

"I just wanted to say..." Sherlock's eyes flicked away momentarily. He cleared his throat and removed his arm. "You should change your computer password."

"Why?"

"It was easy to guess." He shrugs.

"No it wasn't." Mallory forces her smile away. "You didn't get into my computer, you tracked Mycroft's phone and then called your mother to confirm he was visiting. I'm assuming you told her about the soulmate situation because she wasn't as surprised as I thought she would be."

"Hm, yes and no." Sherlock nods and shakes his head. "I did all that except tell my mother, that was Mycroft's slip up. I really had no intention of telling her, it would bring up too many questions."

"Interesting." Mallory hums, clasping her hands together behind her back. A moment passes before Sherlock opens his mouth again. He closes it a moment later, a hum coming out instead.

"Mallory, I- can I kiss you?" He finally asked, tilting his head. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes as she scanned his face. All it took was a slight nod for Sherlock to duck down and press his lips against hers. Mallory pulled back just enough to speak.

"Have you been smoking?" She asked, pressing her lips together.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" He asked in a whisper of sorts. Their close proximity didn't require a loud volume.

"No. Your clothes smell, I hadn't realized what it was exactly until you came closer." Mallory mutters. "I suggest you change before your mother smells it."

"Hm, she has allergies." Sherlock straightens up and dusts off his shirt before gesturing down the walkway. "After you."

Mallory gladly took the invitation and made her way into the house. Sherlock followed close behind. As soon as they were inside and the door was shut, Mrs. Holmes peeked out from the kitchen.

"Oh here are the lovely soulmates!" She gushes, rushing over and standing before the two. "I should take a picture." She says, mostly to herself, as she turns and scans the room for any form of a camera.

"No picture needed, Mallory is afraid of flash photography." Sherlock smiles, placing his hand upon Mallory's head. 

"Oh nonsense, I'll be back!" Mrs. Holmes wanders off through the house. 

"Your father isn't home." Mallory observes, moving away from Sherlock to rid of his hand. She wanders into the kitchen, spotting Mycroft hunched over as he scans the fridge. He glanced over at the two and let out a sigh, straightening up. The fridge shut as soon as he let go of it. 

"Sherlock, we have to talk." Mycroft walks up to the two. He glances down at Mallory. "Keep our mother busy." 

Mallory gave a small nod as the two exited the house. Her eyes wandered the kitchen. It looked just the same as it had before, the only addition was a pie. She hummed, turning away from the room and back towards the living room. Just as she entered, Mrs. Holmes came rushing in, a camera in hand.

"Now where did those boys run off to?" She asked, dropping her arms to her sides. 

"Mycroft lost his glasses, Sherlock volunteered to help look for them in the car." Mallory explained, moving to sit down on the sofa. "I suppose we can have alone time now."

"Wonderful, just us girls." Mrs. Holmes sat down opposite of Mallory with a smile. Mallory mirrored it. A second of silence passed before the smile left the woman's lips. It was replaced with a look of concern. "I appreciate you Mallory. You always took care of my boy, and now both of them."

"I didn't do much." Mallory shook her head. If she wasn't there, nothing much would change in her mind.

"Oh but you did!" Mrs. Holmes leans forward. "I'll tell you this, but you can't let Mycroft know I've said this." She waited for Mallory to nod before continuing. "Mycroft is a very sensitive man and boy do I know it. I'd call him up once a week when he started this new, fancy job just to ask if he was alright. He'd always say he was busy until one day he said he got an assistant. 

Then every time I called he'd still say he was busy, but it was different. I know my son, he was happier. I believe you brought the joy out in him and he is grateful for you. I'm sure Sherl is the same way. 

Anywho, I'm getting off track. I called him yesterday and I heard that sadness in his voice. But when he came here with you, well, that sadness was gone."

"I really don't think I have that much of an impact, but it's nice of you to say." Mallory quickly said to stop her rant.

"Oh nonsense, you're just like them. Deep down you know it." She leans back in the seat just as the front door opens. Mycroft and Sherlock step inside. A stink of cigarette smoke wafts in. Mallory glances to their mother, who doesn't seem to notice a thing. She really did have allergies. 

"Mycroft." Mallory stood from her seat. "Help me in the kitchen." She brushed past the brothers and stopped in the room. Mycroft slowly stepped in, his nose scrunching up.

"The day you cook is the day the world burns." He mutters, leaning against the counter. "What is it?"

Mallory ignored his comment and got straight to the point, but it seemed harder to say than anything. "Do...are you...how...are you okay?"

Mycroft's eyes shifted to hers, narrowing at her. He scanned her face, but gathered no information. He looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The one question no one asks." He mutters under his breath, mostly to himself. Mycroft straightens up and flattens his shirt. "Yes Mallory, I am fine as of now."

"Okay."

"Please never ask again, it was hard watching you struggle."

"Absolutely." Mallory mutters.

The day went on. At the end of it, Mycroft drove Sherlock back to Baker Street and Mallory back to her own home. She decided it was time for change, but something inside her told her a lot was about to change. She had a bad feeling, and she didn't know how to shake it.


	19. The Wall Has Fallen

Mallory woke in her own bed for the first time in a long while. It was a nice feeling to be surrounded in the warmth of her blankets. Although she would rather stay in bed all day, she did have plans.

It has been a while since Sherlock has returned and everything has gone back to whatever 'normal' it was before. Mallory and Mycroft went about their days and John and Sherlock theirs. The only difference about today was the wedding. 

They had been planning it for months and the day was finally here. Mallory wasn't too shocked when Sherlock was asked to be the best man. He called her immediately but he didn't seem to be forming any coherent sentences. She would never tell John that Sherlock was quite happy about the arrangement. Of course she had to tell Mycroft.

"Sherlock is John's best man." Mallory spoke before taking a sip from her mug. 

"Interesting." Mycroft hummed, bringing his own cup to his lips. He paused, his eyes flicking up to Mallory. "Record the speech."

"Oh, I plan on it." She smiles, taking another sip.

Sherlock had seemed to be in his head, so much so, that he hadn't realized the best man gives a speech. It wasn't until the day of the wedding that he had remembered. The ceremony had finished and, as Mallory suspected, Sherlock stood with a scrunched up face as John recited some vows.

As he passed her on the way out for pictures, he muttered a simple, "I promised not to correct him."

Pictures were taken and Mallory opted to stand on the side of the camera with the photographer. It was quite amusing watching Sherlock stand there with a blank expression.

Before she knew it, they were in a separate room, waiting to enter the dining hall. Mallory was there for no particular reason, she had no special role in the wedding, she had just decided to tag along.

"Oh we should probably go." Mary exclaimed, grabbing onto John's wrist. He nodded as she dragged him out towards the dining area. Mallory followed behind, shutting the door as they left. Before she could turn around, the other woman in the room spoke up.

"Sherlock." Janine, Mary's maid of honor, had turned to face the man. He glanced down at her with a raise of his brow. "I just wanted to let you know that there's no pressure."

"Pressure?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You know, the best man and maid of honor hooking up? It's basically tradition. But there's no pressure!" She slapped her hand against his shoulder in a friendly pat. Mallory turned around and met Sherlock's eyes. His lips turned up into a slight smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing he had something planned.

"Excuse me Janine." Sherlock walked forward and grabbed Mallory's arm. He turned and quickly pulled her down the hallway of the building. Mallory pulled her arm back, stopping in place. "Perfect." He muttered as he opened a door just behind Mallory and nudged her in. The door shut behind them, encasing the small room in darkness.

"Sherlock this is a closet." Mallory commented. Her hands reached up and pressed against his chest as he moved closer in the small space.

"Thank you for the observation." He smiled through the darkness. "I have a proposition."

"This really isn't the time for questions." 

Sherlock ignored her and continued anyways. "I am going to flirt with Janine. She has something I need."

Mallory grew silent, staring at him with a blank expression. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, the door flew open.

"What are you two doing?" John's slightly angry tone echoed through the closet.

"Oh you know, tradition." Sherlock slipped out of the closet.

"What-? Actually don't answer. The speech Sherlock." John spoke as the two rushed down the hall. Mallory blinked, stepping out of the closet and looking down the hall. She silently shut the door and turned around to be met with a smiling face.

"Hi." He tilted his head. "I got stuck in traffic on the way here. I don't really want to walk into a wedding alone- do you mind?" The man held up his arm for Mallory to grab onto. 

"Who are you?" Mallory asked, her arms by her sides. He dropped his arm back to his side, opting for sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Ronald, Mary's friend from high school." He shifted his weight from one foot to another. Ronald's smile turning into a frown as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "To be honest, I'm not sure why I was invited. I haven't spoken to Mary in years and- well I don't really know why I came either."

"I'm not a therapist." Mallory said. Ronald paused his actions before bursting out into a laugh. He slapped his hand down on Mallory's shoulder with a wide smile.

"You're funny." He slipped to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You can call me Ron."

Mallory furrowed her brow as she shook her head. She started forward, Ron's arm falling from her shoulders. He quickly caught up to her. She pushed open the door to the main room, slipping inside. Ron held the door open just above her head, stepping in behind her. 

"And-" Sherlock's speech took a pause as he noticed the two. Together. He narrowed his eyes, following them as they sat down. Why did that man sit next to Mallory? After a kick from John, Sherlock shook it off and continued. As his speech went on, Mallory noticed the atmosphere change. Of course everyone assumed it was Sherlock being Sherlock, but when Mallory's phone beeped and she read Sherlock's message, she knew something was off.

The chaos was kept to a minimum, all thanks to Sherlock. Mallory stood outside, Lestrade beside her as the photographer was escorted into a police car. He had tried to kill a man, more specifically, John's friend.

"Sherlock did good." Lestrade comments, uncrossing his arms. He lets out a sigh as he claps his hands together. "Well, I should see him off to the station. Are you coming?"

"No." Mallory shook her head. "Mycroft is taking care of it."

"Right, I'll see you then." Lestrade gave a short wave as he jogged over to a second car. Mallory breathed out, her breath turning into a fog as soon as it passed her lips. Her arms wrapped around herself as a breeze blew by.

"Pretty cold huh?" The familiar voice was followed by a weight on Mallory's shoulders. She furrowed her brow, looking at her side as she noticed the black coat around her. Her eyes trailed up to meet Ron's.

"What are you doing?" She asked, shrugging off the coat. An immediate regret followed as she felt a chill run down her spine.

He shrugs. "I saw you out here, you looked cold." 

"I'm fine." Mallory muttered, extending her hand with his jacket. She pushed the fabric against his chest, but he made no move to grab it.

"Fine is what people say when they're the complete opposite. I mean...I should know." Ron's hand reached up to his neck once again. 

"Why is it that you are talking to me and no one else here?" Mallory's arms crossed over her chest. The coat laid across her arms since he refused to take it back.

Ron stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrugging. "To be honest? I thought you looked pretty-"

"Mallory." 

Mallory perked up at her name, looking in the direction from where it came. The light from the building flowed out to illumate his features in the dark. 

"Sherlock, is the party over?" Mallory asked as he grew closer. 

"No, but we're going home." He stops in front of her, grabbing Ron's coat and handing it to him.

"Hey-" 

"Hello, now goodbye." Sherlock interrupted, reaching down to Mallory's hand. His fingers found the spaces between hers as he pulled her along. She complied, mostly because she didn't want to be there anyways.

"Did you finish flirting?" Mallory asked once they were a reasonable distance away. "With Janine."

"Did you finish flirting?" Sherlock retorts. "With- what is his name? He looks like a Robert."

"Ronald, and you're jealous?"

"Jealousy is for the weak minded." Sherlock mutters, pulling his hand away from hers. He shrugs off the coat he wore and handed it to Mallory. "If you were cold you should've came inside."

"I wasn't cold." Mallory retorts. She doesn't put on the coat out of pettiness even if she is cold. The two bicker about it until they reach Baker Street. They enter silently, and as the door closes, Sherlock turns to face his soulmate.

"If I can't flirt with Janine then you do it."

"I'm sorry but what does Janine have anything to do with- anything?" Mallory asks as she slips off her shoes.

"I can't tell you that! I just need to get close to her so she'll let me in where she works." He throws his hands up in exasperation, turning on his heel to begin pacing.

"I can get you in anywhere, just tell me where." She exclaims, tossing Sherlock's coat to the couch. He stops his pacing and turns to her suddenly.

"You look beautiful." He comments. Mallory narrows her eyes.

"Flattery-"

"-gets me everywhere." Sherlock finishes. "Tea?"

"No, I have to go back home." Mallory shakes her head. Sherlock's sudden subject change wasn't unusual. He'd start the conversation back up again later when he has had time to think about a clever response.

"Then why did you take off your shoes?" He hummed as he made his way down the hallway towards his room. Mallory looked down at her feet, narrowing her eyes as she started down the hall and into Sherlock's room.

"You want me to spend the night then?" Mallory asks from the doorway. Sherlock pulls at the bowtie he wore, undoing the knot. 

"I thought I made it obvious." He clears his throat, walking up to Mallory. "I'm taking a shower, will you join me?"

The woman stared at her soulmate for a long while. He held eye contact as he waited for her response. Mallory would have answered sooner if she hadn't been so focused on the color of his eyes. She couldn't help but wonder if that speck of color had always been there. On the other hand, Sherlock opted for searching her eyes for an answer. He could usually predict a yes or no answer from someone. John was the easiest to read, he had all sorts of nervous ticks, but Mallory? He could never get a good read on her right away. It always took times like these where he got to see the real her. 

Mallory blinked, furrowing her brow. "Are you drunk?"

"No, perfectly sober. Would you like me to walk in a straight line?" Sherlock offered with a tilt of his head.

"Then I must be hearing things."

"Yes, you're hearing my voice." He shrugs. Sherlock's fingers brush against Mallory's chin, lifting her eyes to meet his once again. "It was a suggestion, not a demand." 

"Yes."

"Hm?"

"I said yes, I will." 

"For the sake of saving water or for me?" Sherlock asks as he brushes past her and pushes open the bathroom door.

"I'll leave that to your imagination." Mallory mutters as she follows him inside.

It was obvious the two were beyond nervous. Nothing of this sort has ever been done before. Mallory doesn't know if she's ever seen another person without their clothes before. She did recall one instance where she caught Mycroft in workout clothing. To be completely honest, she saw more of him in those clothes than she wanted to. 

Sherlock reached into the shower and pulled the handle, allowing water to flow out from the bottom faucet. He pulled at the tab, which allowing the water to be redirected to the showerhead. 

Mallory guessed this is the time for the clothes to come off. Her gaze fell to the floor as she reached towards her back to unhook the dress she wore. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was suitable for a wedding. She unclasped the hook and grabbed the zipper. Mallory froze as she felt the warm presence behind her. Sherlock's hand gently covered hers. It was a silent question and she had just answered with a yes.

Her hand fell back to her side as Sherlock grabbed hold of the zipper and pulled it down. She turned around after his hands left, her eyes meeting his once again.

"I thought we weren't wasting water?" She asked in a hushed tone. The bathroom echoed her voice enough that she could whisper. 

Sherlock hummed, glancing back at the shower, and then to Mallory. "I suppose we should hurry then."

The two of them moved on their own, discarding clothes before entering the shower. Sherlock stood with his back catching most of the water, the rest dripped down the side of his face. His hair was soaked, the fluffy locks now draped over his head in a wet mess. Mallory had reached up, brushing her hands through his hair, pushing it from his face.

Sherlock closed his eyes momentarily. He let out a sigh as he turned slightly, grabbing a bottle of shampoo. 

"I don't see the appeal in this." He muttered, sidestepping away from the water. Mallory took his place, running her fingers through her hair.

"Other than saving water?" She asked, glancing back at him. Sherlock squished the shampoo bottle, the liquid pooling in his palm. He shrugs and places the bottle behind him as he steps forward. Mallory turned her attention forward as she felt Sherlock's hands in her hair. "I'm capable of washing my own hair."

"The article I read said to take care of your partner in the shower." Sherlock mumbles.

"I'm not sure that's what it meant."

"What else could you do in a shower?" 

Mallory turned around. Sherlock's hands lifted from her hair as to not get the soap in her eyes. He rose a brow, meeting her eyes.

"Sherlock." She reached forward, placing her hands against his chest lightly. Her fingertips brushed against his skin causing a chill to go down his spine. "I think you were reading an article about sex."

Sherlock's lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced away. "Well."

"Well." She repeated with a slight smile. "You may be smart, but very oblivious."

"I suppose so." Sherlock mutters. He takes a deep breath as he reaches down and grabs Mallory's shoulders, turning her back around. His hands rested back upon her head. 

The two continued their shower in peace, but unknown to them, Mallory's phone rang from Sherlock's room. Neither knew so they had no incentive to rush. However, once they had been cleaned and changed, Mallory picked up her beeping phone.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, reaching up and fluffing his slightly wet hair. Mallory hummed in response, narrowing her eyes at the texts. "Bad news?" She hummed again, closing her phone and looking up at Sherlock.

"Well, I suppose I am to be sent back to America." 

Sherlock paused, his hands slowly falling back to his sides. "When do you leave?"

"Seems to be next week. I'll have...a partner."

"Details are classified." Sherlock muttered, knowing he wouldn't get an answer even if he asked. He let out a sigh as he grabbed the covers on the bed. "I suppose we should have sex."

"I-" Mallory stuttered, taken aback by Sherlock's suggestion. She shook her head, looking up at him. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"You said you were going away." He nods. "Logically this is the point in a relationship where the couple takes the next step."

"Sherlock." Mallory sighs, running a hand down her face. "If that is true then, logically, it would have happened before you faked your death."

"Hm, I suppose you're right." Sherlock hummed. The two of them slipped into bed and before they knew it, they were asleep.

Mallory didn't think too much about the job she had. It wouldn't take longer than a week, maybe a little more. It wasn't something to worry over. But that feeling deep inside wouldn't go away.


	20. The Departure is Upon Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the big delay. School just came so quickly and I've been writing when I've had time. I hope you enjoy!

Mallory begged, she begged this man would not be her partner. The morning of she went as far as falling to her knees and asking any higher power to help. Alas, no one was listening to her pleas. She had a feeling that 'Ron' was an odd name. She meant no offense to anyone with that name, but the man she knew who owned it, was definitely not a Ron. 

Her suspicion was correct. When she stepped foot into the dreadful office of Mycroft Holmes, there stood another man. Tall and dressed in a suit and tie. He tilted his head over his shoulder upon Mallory's entrance. A smirk played on his lips that he hid as he turned away.

"Mallory. Late enough." Mycroft sighed, motioning for her to walk in. Her feet were planted in the doorway, her eyes narrowed at the man. "What? Are you a vampire now? Come in already."

"I am not working with this man." Mallory spoke, walking into the room and shutting the door behind her with a nudge of her foot.

"Great. Glad I asked for your opinion." Mycroft exclaimed, a smile on his lips. The smile left instantly as he slouched in his seat. "You will not be working together. I merely-"

"You sent him to the wedding for what?" Mallory interrupted, placing her hands on Mycroft's desk and leaning forward. She was well aware of the eyes burning into the side of her head. It felt more like an icy stare than anything. An ice burn, ironic.

"Sit down Miss Langston." Mycroft spoke through gritted teeth. A silence filled the room as the two had a staring contest. Whoever blinks first must be the weakest-

"Okay, well that was awkward. Guess it still is awkward..." The man Mallory had been avoiding spoke up. Her head snapped over to him, eyes narrowed. His smile turned into a frown as he noticed the hatred in her eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Ron-"

"No. Your actual name." Mallory corrects, pointing an accusing finger at him. He glances down at her hand and reaches up, about to grab it. She pulls her hand back, her lips pulling into a frown.

"Jared." He sighs, moving his hand up to run through his hair. It wasn't a nice save.

"As I was trying to say-" Mycroft began, but was interrupted once again.

"Okay, Jared." She mocked, venom coating her words. "Listen here-"

"Mallory. If you interrupt me one more time so help me I will make your life a living hell." Mycroft threatened, standing up abruptly. She snapped her head towards him, eyes locking with his. Mallory shook her head, stepping over to her seat and plopping down in it.

"You already do." She muttered, turning her gaze to the ceiling. "Can we hurry this up? I have work to do."

Mycroft let out a heavy sigh, sitting back down, hands moving to his temples. He rubbed the skin at the side of his head, closing his eyes. "As I was saying. Mallory. Jared will not be working with you, he will be working for you."

"What?" Mallory asked, her gaze snapping to Mycroft again. He nodded, dropping his hands to the desk. She looked to Jared who shrugged and nodded as well.

"You're the boss on this 'mission' of sorts. The two of you will travel to America for a week. That's how much time you'll need to get it done.

You will be looking for a man who worked for Moriarty in the states. His name is Linston. Yes, before you ask. Just Linston." Mycroft finished, taking a breath.

"Okay. Where is he exactly?" Mallory asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"In America." Mycroft answered.

"In America, where?" Mallory asked, shaking her head at his vauge answer.

"If I may..." Jared cut in. "I believe they have no idea where he is and that's why we're being sent to America to find him."

"Exactly." Mycroft nodded.

"A week. To find a man in America." Mallory repeated. 

"She always this slow?" Jared asked, mostly to Mycroft.

"Unfortunately." Mycroft muttered. "Yes Mallory. A week. That's why I'm sending you. You're perfectly capable of doing this. Now get out of my office, I have work to do."

"Liar." Mallory muttered as she stood.

"Excuse me?"

"I know your entire schedule. You don't have anything to do today." Mallory informed, turning around and walking out. She heard the faint footsteps of Jared behind her. His steps were heavy and louder than the average person. She wondered what made him good at his job. He was too loud to sneak around, too clingy to convince anyone he actually belongs, and too...him.

"Mallory." Jared called out, his heavy footsteps now sounding from beside her instead of behind her. She didn't bother acknowledging him. Something about the man bothered her. "Since I'm going to be working for you, we should keep in contact somehow. You should also intro-"

"I should do a lot of things." Mallory interrupts, stopping in her tracks and looking to Jared. "But I don't have to." 

Jared's lips twitch down momentarily, a twitch not many would notice. He lets out a breathy laugh, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright." He leans down, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can see right through me. Keep it to youself."

Jared straightened up, running a hand through his hair. He put on that fake smile of his. With a nod, he wandered off further into the office. Mallory huffed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"He's cute." 

Mallory glanced towards the source of the voice, spotting a younger secretary. She rose her brows as a smile coated her lips. Mallory matched her smile and nodded, turning around. Her smile immediately faded as she made her way to her office.

Upon entering, she wasn't surprised to see the trenchcoat detective standing before her. He looked up from a book that had once been on her shelf. Sherlock held it in one hand, snapping it shut and setting it on the desk behind him.

"What are we doing today?" He asked, pushing himself away from leaning against the desk.

"What are you talking about?" Mallory asked, knowing exactly what he meant. Since she was leaving, he probably wanted to spend time together. Unfortunately, Mallory did have work to do. 

"You know." He hummed.

"Hm, no. I can't read minds, unfortunately." She steps up to him, pressing a finger against his forehead and tapping. "Yours has always been a mystery."

"It's for you to solve." Sherlock immediately replied, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly. Mallory dropped her hand back to her side as she shrugged.

"It'll continue to be a mystery." She rounded the desk and pulled out her chair. "As much as I'd like to run around town and solve crimes with you, I have work to do."

"I believe you were looking for the word love." Sherlock corrects as he spins around to face her.

"Goodbye Sherlock." Mallory waves her hand in the air as she sits down. Her eyes scan over the papers on her desk as she begins sorting them out of the way. She pauses, looking up to see Sherlock still standing there. Mallory sighed, pointing her finger towards the wall. "Go bother Mycroft."

"A mission, interesting." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Mallory had caught his words just enough to make her smile. Without another word Sherlock turned on his heel and exited her office. 

Once the door shut, Mallory went back to work.


	21. I...

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions/actions of sexual assault.

-

"Knock, knock-"

"No." Mallory deadpanned, looking up from her papers with a glare. The man in the doorway straightened up, a frown forming on his lips. His eyes told a different story, one of mischief and lies. The woman at the desk could see right through him and he was well aware of that.

"No?" Jared repeated, tilting his head to the side as his frown turned into a smile. "But I brought a snack." He held up a brown paper bag, shaking it lightly. The contents inside shifted against the paper making their presence known. 

"Still no." Mallory muttered, her gaze falling back to the work in front of her. "Leave now."

When the sweet, sweet sound of retreating footsteps didn't reach Mallory's ears, she frowned and looked up at Jared. Her expression was blank, but he knew just how annoyed she was. The corner of his lips twitched up into a half smirk.

"Gotcha." He whispered, stepping into the office and letting the door close. He tossed the brown bag onto her desk, sighing as he slouched. "How do you keep up with those people out there? I would've came in sooner but the lady at the third desk kept talking to me."

"She likes you." Mallory says bluntly. Jared nods, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Interesting." He drops his hand and shrugs. "Oh well, she's not my type." He rose a brow, waiting for Mallory to respond. "Sheesh- this is where you ask what my type is and I say you and then we hit it off and-"

"I have a soulmate and his name is Sherlock Holmes." Mallory interrupts, standing from her chair. "If you just want to blabber on about nonsense then get out."

"It's not nonsense." Jared's lips twitch upwards. He stepped around the desk, stopping just beside Mallory. His hand pressed against a stack of papers as he leaned against it. "I was simply professing my undying love."

"I wish your love would die." Mallory replies with a roll of her eyes. "I've already told you to leave, so leave."

"Who says I listen?" Jared asks, reaching forward and placing a hand on Mallory's shoulder. His touch was light. Fingertips brushing against the cloth of her blouse. The pads of his fingers made imprints in the fabric as he tightened his grip. Mallory took a deep breath, her eyes shutting as she fought back her instincts.

"I said to get out." She spoke in a tone that surprised her. Her voice was low and shaking. Mallory clenched her hand into a fist at her side, her nails biting into her skin. 

"Mallory." Jared sounded much closer than before. His fingers brushed against the skin of her neck as he pushed her hair out of the way. "Seriously, we'll be alone for a while. Since you hate me and I hate what you do to me. Well, we can work something out." 

His hot breath fanned over Mallory's neck, sending an unsettling chill down her spine. Even though his one hand was ghosting over her back, she felt others on her body. She felt multiple hands grabbing, touching, and pulling at places she didn't ask to be touched. It hadn't dawned on her that she never dealt with her own problems. 

Instead of fear that she felt that day, Mallory felt anger. She was angry. Angry at the fact that she didn't fight back. At the time in her home she had just given up, knowing what was to come. For a while she was convinced that she had been weak, but no, she wasn't weak. Those men were weak for taking advantage of her. No, they never actually did anything, but that didn't make it any less traumatic.

"Come on." Jared sighs, his hand now resting on her waist. His lips brush against her neck as he speaks. "I know you want t-"

Mallory moves quickly, grabbing his wrist tightly and twisting. Jared gasps as she takes a handful of the back of his suit jacket and yanks hard. Jared is sent onto the floor, a gasp leaving his lips as the air empties from his lungs. Mallory wastes no time. She steps on his chest, using it as a step stool of sorts as she exits her office.

As Mallory enters the hall, she spots Mycroft jogging down the walkway. He presses a hand against his stomach as he gives Mallory a once over. 

"I heard a crash." He breathes out. "What happened?" 

"The pervert inside my office will lie to you about what happened. I won't be going to America with him. I don't care if you fire me." Mallory states, walking past Mycroft. He stops her with a hand on her arm. She looks up at him as he looks forward to a disheveled Jared. Mallory glances over her shoulder at him.

He stands with a hunch as he breathes heavily, his hair sticking out at all ends, his jacket torn, and his hand twitching into fists before relaxing again. Jared straightens up, pulling his jacket off and throwing it to the ground.

"She really is crazy." He says with a laugh. "Tries to get into my pants and then leaves! What kind of-"

"You're fired." Mycroft cuts him off.

"What?" Jared asks.

"I said you are fired. I'm sure I do not need to spell it out for you. I don't give a damn who sent you here, but you can tell them the mission is off. We will not be sending any of our agents to America." Mycroft blabs out, turning on his heel and letting go of Mallory's arm. He nods forwards before setting off towards his office. Mallory follows without question.

As soon as the door closes, Mycroft sighs as loud as he can.

"I apologize Mallory." He says, running a hand down his face. Mycroft grabs a box of tissues on his desk and holds it out towards Mallory. She grabs one, well aware of the wetness dripping down her face. 

"I suppose I never recovered." She muses, wiping her face. "From the kidnapping that is."

"Sherlock doesn't know about this?" Mycroft asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course he doesn't. You trust him. And I haven't noticed because you trust me as well. I should've paid more attention."

"I believe Sherlock has an idea." Mallory mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. "He had been hanging around more. Avoiding touching me unless he had to."

"No. That's just Sherlock."

"That is true." She nods. 

"Take the week off." Mycroft sighs. "I will be working on a confidential case and you have no business being here anyways."

"Interesting. A confidential case? This week?"

"Yes." Mycroft narrows his eyes. "What is so interesting about that?"

"If I remember correctly, this week, a year ago, you met that lady..." Mallory hums. "Well, must be a coincidence. I shall be going then." 

She turns on her heel and reaches for the doorknob, but pauses. Mallory looks over her shoulder at Mycroft. He gives a short nod. It was a silent 'you're welcome.'

-

Sherlock stared at Mallory as she entered his living room. His eyes narrowed and skull fell from his hand as he watched her shrug off the jacket she wore. He was watching her every movement. 

"Mallory." He finally spoke up as she stepped out of her shoes. "There is something...out of place. Have you been to a club recently?"

"A club?" Mallory asks, sighing as she walks over to stand in front of Sherlock. She glances down, grabbing the skull he was previously holding and hands it to him. His fingers brush against her wrist as he takes it.

"Yes, your heart rate is rather high for someone who took a cab here." He comments with a nod. "The only logical place you would have been would be a club or- something may have happened." Sherlock leans down and takes a sniff. "Hm, you've been around a male."

"Yes." Mallory confirms.

"You don't like him very much." Sherlock continues. He straightens up, setting the skull down on the coffee table before reaching forward and pressing a hand against Mallory's shoulder. "Hm, I understand now."

"Do you?" Mallory asks, glancing at him. She could tell from his expression. It was one of pity.

"Yes." He takes his hand away and brushes past. "Keep my skull company I will be back soon."

"Where are you going?" Mallory asks, turning to see Sherlock grabbing his coat.

"To the store." He hums, grabbing his scarf and rushing down the steps.

"That's a complete lie." Mallory mumbles, plopping down in his seat and grabbing the skull. She holds it in her hand, facing her. "He's been banned from all the stores in the vacinity."


	22. The Tiny Details

"To be." Mallory sighed, holding the skull up to be level with her own. "Or not to- geez what am I doing?" 

Sherlock had only been gone an hour at this point.

She huffs, setting the bone on the coffee table and moving over to the window. She brushes the curtains away just enough to allow her a glance at the street outside. Her eyes focus on the small droplets of rain coating the glass. They slipped down, merging into one another as they hit the windowsill. 

"Sherlock didn't take an umbrella." Mallory mutters under her breath. She freezes, her hand gripping the curtain with an unnecessary hold. Her grip tightens as she lets out a breathy laugh. A few years ago she would have never been worried about another person, let alone her soulmate.

It was quite funny how it turned out. Mallory found herself laughing about it occasionally. She never thought she'd actually feel these emotions towards someone else. Her closest bet was Mycroft. He is the only human being she has worried about at least once. 

Mallory pulled the curtain shut, letting go of the fabric as she turned around. She gasped as her eyes landed on the man in the doorway.

"Thank you." Sherlock sighed, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up. Beads of rain sat upon it, slowly soaking into the fabric. He pulled the scarf off of his neck with a smile. His hands landed in his hair, shaking out the water droplets. "I think that's how everyone should react when I walk in the room."

"Where did you go?" Mallory questions, ignoring his comment.

"Store." He hummed a reply, kicking off his shoes.

"Where are the bags?" Mallory asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I gave them to Mrs. Hudson." He quickly replies, rounding the arm chair to swipe the skull off the coffee table. "Were you reciting Shakespeare?" 

"No." Mallory answers a little too quickly. Sherlock's lips tilt up the slightest as he nods in understanding. "What did- what did you buy?"

"Hm?" Sherlock tore his eyes from the empty sockets of the skull to look to Mallory.

"At the store."

"Oh, right." He turns his attention back to the object in hand, narrowing his eyes. "Right..."

"Sherlock. You didn't go to the store did you?"

"Three minutes!" Sherlock exclaimed, dropping the skull and displaying the number on his fingers. "It took you three minutes."

"No, actually, it took me the time from when you left to remember how you were banned from the stores around here. And the fact that you left your wallet, so unless you've just committed a crime, you didn't go to the store." Mallory uncrosses her arms as she places her hands on her hips instead.

"Don't do that, you look like a mother." Sherlock swats her hands at her hips. Mallory's arms fall to her sides as she raises a brow at him. He sighs rather dramatically, holding up his hand. She narrows her eyes at the skin of his palm wondering if he wanted his fortune read. With a twist of his wrist, the back of his hand is shown. She blinks, looking at it and then meeting his eyes.

"Yes, that's your hand." Mallory confirms with a nod.

"No." He reaches up and points to a miniscule line about two centimeters long that sits upon his hand.

"Is that a paper cut?" She asks, squinting at the line. "Or did you draw on yourself?"

"A cut." He explains with little to no detail. "If you had been more observant you would've seen it earlier."

"Of course." Mallory's lips turned into a frown. "How stupid of me to look over such a tiny detail."

"Well, yes, it was very stupid." Sherlock begins his lecture as he begins to pace around the room. "Tiny details make up the entire picture. You see one stroke of a paint brush can change the whole picture. Adding a line of red between two cliffs can turn into a bridge. If you had noticed this tiny detail, such as the cut on my hand, it would lead you to question of why I had to on my hand. Surely I wouldn't be swiping papers on the back of my hand for fun. The angle that it's at doesn't help either. How could-"

"Sherlock." Mallory interrupts. "I just asked where you were."

"Actually your question implied more of what I was doing at the place I was at." Sherlock hums. "It doesn't matte-"

"No it does matter." She interrupts once again, making her way up to Sherlock. Mallory reaches up, poking her finger against his cheek. Sherlock winced, ducking his head out of the way as he escaped her poke. "Don't think I didn't notice the bruise you hid under that makeup- speaking of, where did you get it?"

"The bruise or the makeup?" 

"Both."

"The store. I didn't lie." Sherlock sighs. "I did go to the store." He reaches up and wipes off the foundation. A fresh bruise revealed itself, evident on his skin more so now that the makeup was gone.

"Of course." Mallory mutters, crossing her arms. "Now the bruise? Did you get that at the store too?"

"Managers act rudely when you enter a store you're banned from." Sherlock mumbles, dusting his hands against his pants. 

"Sherlock." Mallory warns, narrowing her eyes. "Just tell me already."

"If I must." He sighs, muttering something under his breath before looking to Mallory. "Well it's obvious isn't it?"

"It is." Mallory lied. She had no idea what Sherlock could have possibly gone to do. He was a wild card. She could never pinpoint his thoughts. "But I want you to tell me."

"From the beginning?" Sherlock asked, raising a brow. Mallory nodded her head and he reciprocated it. "Well, you came to my flat. Your heart was elevated and you smelled of a man's cologne. I know the scent of Mycroft's putrid cologne...I've told him to change it if he ever wants to find his soulmate-"

"Well." Mallory presses a finger against her lips as a sign to be quiet. "I know who it is."

"Interesting." Sherlock tilts his head as a small smile sets on his lips. "Tell me afterwards. Continuing on. I recognized the scent. It's been on you for the past few days. Considering we're soulmates and the chance one of us cheats is very low- I do trust you. Coming to that conclusion it had to be someone at work, a man who gets close to you and isn't afraid- no offense, you give off an aura. The only man other than John would have to be Johnson-"

"I'm sorry- who?" Mallory interrupted again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, scanning her face.

"Johnson-"

"Jared." Mallory corrects.

"Yes, Jared..." Sherlock trails off. He clicks his tongue as he reaches up to scratch at his chin. "Well, Jared was the only one I could think of. When I touched your shoulder your eyes widened but you relaxed. Knowing that you trust me I knew I had comforted you. Therefore you had a bad day, but what could have possibly caused that bad day? 

The cologne mixed with your tense nature led me to one conclusion. Jared had been near you, clearly making you uncomfortable..."

As Sherlock continued on, he began pacing once again. Mallory glanced down at her pocket, a sudden urge to check her phone brought her to pull the decive out. As the screen came alive it notified her of an unread message. She opened the message, reading it over.

"...Therefore I went to his temporary home and gave a small lecture on what not to do-"

"Sherlock." Mallory interrupted, pocketing her phone. "Mycroft said he called you and told you what happened. Stop showing off."

Sherlock's lips turned down into a frown as he slumped over in a slouch. "I was having fun."

"Did you really go and fight him?" Mallory asked.

"No. He punched me because I had gone over there to inform him that I contacted his current girlfriend to fill her in on the mess."

"Sherlock." Mallory sighs, stepping up to him. She reached up, her fingers brushing over the bruise lightly. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I don't see the problem."

"I do-"

"No." Sherlock reaches up and grabs her hand to stop her actions. "I don't see the problem because I did it to protect you."

A silence filled the empty space. The two stared into each other's eyes, Mallory's were filled with shock while Sherlock's remained unreadable.

"I couldn't be there when it happened." He continued. "So I made up for it by doing this. I protect the people I love."

Mallory audibly gasped. Her eyes grew wide as a few tears started to build up on her waterline. Never in her life had she thought she'd hear those words.

"Because I've come to a realization." Sherlock spoke up again. "I do love you Mallory."

"I..." Mallory's hand dropped from his grip as he wiped away at her cheek. She blinks a few times to clear her head. "I l-"

It would've been a perfect moment if she had spoken a little faster.

"That was sentimental and all, but truely you should have hurried it up."A new voice joined in. Mallory and Sherlock tilted their heads to look at a woman standing in the doorway. Not only was she standing there, but she was pointing a gun as well. In a single swoop two shots sounded. Mallory's flinched as she felt a pick at the exposed flesh of her forearm. 

She quickly pulled out what looked like a needle from her skin. Mallory dropped it to the ground, looking to Sherlock, who pulled the same needle from his neck. 

"Now that that's done." The woman droppped the gun. Upon closer inspection Mallory realized that wasn't a normal gun, not one that shot bullets anyways. "My name- actually I don't think I have to tell you."

"Common courtesy." Sherlock grumbled, rubbing his neck. 

"Right, right." She sighs, reached up and tucking her hair behind her ear. "Well my name is not common, I suppose that should break the rules, no? You can call me Agent, cool name don't you think?"

"I suppose." Sherlock replies. "What did you inject us with?"

"Hm?" The woman tilted her head as if she had forgotten the past minute. "Oh, a little poison."

"Slow acting." Mallory added on. "I'm assuming you want something."

"Me? No, but my employer, yes." Agent sighs. "It really is a bother coming out all this way...anyways. If you don't get what my employer wants then we won't give you the antidote. Simple and easy! So..." She reached into a pocket hidden in her jacket and pulled out a USB stick. Agent waved it in the air, setting it down on the coffee table. 

"How long?" Sherlock hummed, stepping over to the hard drive. He snatched it up, examining the small device.

"About a day, starting a few minutes ago." Agent nods. "Well, I'll be on my way then. When I come back please don't be dead, I hate the smell." 

As quickly as she came, she left. Very anticlimactic.

Sherlock has busied himself with the hard drive.

"Are you alright?" Mallory asked. 

"Am I alright?" He repeated the question, looking up at her with wild eyes. "I'm more than alright! I finally have a case, and an exciting one at that."

Of course. Even with poison running through his veins he's still the same old Sherlock.


End file.
